


Let Your Heart Be Light

by JJK, Rosesnfeathers



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (for good reason), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky loves Christmas, Cancer, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Grieving, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Pining, Parent Death, Pining, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Warnings for mentions of:, but it's a fluffy story really!, steve hates it, stupid bearded sweater wearing dumb dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:33:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28050198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJK/pseuds/JJK, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosesnfeathers/pseuds/Rosesnfeathers
Summary: “I normally spend the holidays with Sam, but he’s going away this year.  And I just really don’t want to spend the holidays alone again.” Steve must sound pathetic. God, there goes any hope of Bucky ever reciprocating his crush. He risks a glance at Bucky and forces his mouth into a smile.“No one should be alone at christmas.” Bucky sounds horrified.  “Look, my family always go all out for christmas. My mom always cooks far too much food, and they’ve got a big old house with plenty of space…”Steve frowns, not sure where Bucky’s going with that. Good for him?“You should come and spend the holidays with us.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, side nat/sharon
Comments: 202
Kudos: 269





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A fluffy christmas collab brought to you by JJK and Rosesnfeathers! Bucky's chapters are written by Rosesnfeathers, Steve's parts are by JJK 🎅 ❄️ 🎁 ⛄ 👪 🎄
> 
> We hope you enjoy!

__

_Have yourself a merry little Christmas  
Let your heart be light  
From now on, all our troubles will be out of sight_

* * *

**_Bucky_ **

On Tuesday, December 1st, Bucky wakes up in a wonderful mood. He reaches for his favorite mug as he starts his coffee machine and as it brews it fills his apartment with a wonderful sweet scent. He feeds Alpine because, of course, she followed him and was rubbing against his legs, threatening to make him fall, like every morning. With his steaming mug cradled in his hands, Bucky walks back to his room. He picks his clothes for the day, going to the very back of his closet where he knows most of his holiday sweaters are. He bought a few new ones last year at the end of the season and he smiles, imagining the look of surprise on Sam’s face when he sees how incredibly amazing and ugly they are.

He picks a pretty tame one, deep green, with tiny snowflakes all over it. It is only the first day of December after all. He keeps the ugliest ones for the last days of work. Alpine is back in the room, slowly licking at her front paws as Bucky gets dressed and finishes his cup of coffee.

He picks up the cardboard box he knows is filled with Christmas decorations, ready to fill his office space with it. He gets new ones every year because it’s a serious competition between Sam and him, which one of them is going to have the best-decorated space and Bucky, well, he’s a bit competitive.

Once he’s dressed and ready, with teeth brushed and face cleaned, he gives a few goodbye pets to Alpine before making his way to the subway station. He looks around for a familiar face, sometimes his colleague, Steve, is there too, they only live a few blocks from each other and, Bucky has to admit that his mornings are always a bit brighter when they start with Steve.

He’s just…he’s one of Bucky’s good friends at the office, okay? There’s nothing more.

It’s not like that between them but, Steve is always dressed so sharp and yet so softly. He wears thick cardigans or smooth cashmere sweaters and they are always the prettiest colors, bringing out the bright blue of Steve’s eyes, or the coppery tone of his beard. Bucky always wants to reach out and touch his arms, his shoulders, and even his back because there is something so incredibly attractive about someone who is built so strong but feels so soft.

Steve also has the nicest voice, the most contagious laugh. He listens so intently to Bucky whenever he struggles with something, or even when he retells a funny story or just talks about Alpine. Steve looks at you straight in the eyes when he speaks to you, with his bright eyes and lashes so long, Bucky is just mesmerized by them sometimes. Steve is just, so good, and kind.

But he’s just Bucky’s friend you know, nothing more. Not at all.

This morning, though he is nowhere in sight. Bucky just gets inside the subway and tries to hold himself as best as he can, with one arm holding his cardboard decoration box, messenger back slung across his shoulders. He knows Steve isn’t the most Christmassy dude out there. The last few years, he always got a bit grumpy as December rolls in. He almost avoids spending as much time around Bucky or Sam’s office space throughout the month but Bucky really doesn’t know why. Sam told him it wasn’t his place to tell Bucky about it, but he’s not sure he’s close enough to Steve to ask him ‘ _Hey man, why do you get so sad around Christmas?’_

When Bucky finally gets into Stark Industries that morning, he feels that the atmosphere is lighter, that he isn’t the only one excited about the holidays. As he walks by the reception desk, he smiles when he sees his colleagues already hanging up bright red and gold stars all over the entryway. Bucky jumps into the elevator and manages to squeeze between a few people, sending smiles and greetings all around. He makes a detour by the graphic design department and he cranes his neck, as he always does, trying to see if Steve is there already, but Bucky frowns when he notices the door is closed. When they don’t see each other on the subway, it usually means that Steve got in earlier than Bucky but Steve rarely closes his office door when he is in.

He drops the box and his bag at his own office space before making his way to the small kitchenette to grab another cup of coffee before starting his day. He’s not sure where Tony buys his coffee for the company, but it’s the first time Bucky works somewhere where the (free) coffee is so good and of great quality. Nothing like the kind of crap you can find in most companies. That is definitely one of the perks of working for such a high-end place even if it only makes Bucky’s slight addiction to coffee even worse.

Natasha and Sam are already there, chatting with each other. Sam looks a bit sleepy around the edges while Natasha, as always, looks like she just stepped off a runaway. She glances at Bucky with a smirk and raised eyebrows, and she shakes her head at his Christmassy sweater.

“What?” Bucky asks her, sensing her judgment.“It’s December! And it snowed a little bit over the weekend.”

“If you can call three little snowflakes _snowing._ ”

Bucky walks to the coffee machine, giving a smug smile to Sam and a pointed look at his shirt that is nowhere into the holiday spirit and pours himself a huge cup, with just enough room for a little bit of cream on top. He then turns around to Natasha and says, “Come on Nat, don’t be a grinch, Christmas is the best time of the year.”

“I think Steve is more of a grinch than I am.” She leans closer to them, lowering her voice. “He was already there when I got in, door closed and everything. He’s also already marked as ‘busy’ on StarkChat.”

Sam gives them a sad kind of smile. “Yeah, it’s always a tough time for him, Christmas.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just grabs his mug and makes his way out and to his own office space, Natasha quickly following him. Bucky grabs at his coffee mug and looks into the fridge, hoping there might be some doughnuts or pastries. Tony often likes to surprise them with stuff from a brand new bakery he found but there’s nothing but a few lunch bags in there.

When Bucky gets to his office and turns his computer on, checking his emails he tries not to think too much about Steve hiding in his office. Maybe he has meetings all day? Maybe he’s working on quite a big project and doesn’t want to be disturbed? But it doesn’t rub well with Bucky because Steve's office door is always wide open. He loves the way the sunlight from the big windows from across the corridor gets into his space when he does. Steve loves greeting colleagues as they walk by and more than anything, it’s just so unlike Steve to lock himself in his office like he’s doing now. It does worry Bucky a little and when he clicks on Steve’s name on StarkChat, he notices that Nat was right, he is marked as busy. Bucky’s fingers itch to send him just a little smiley face, a joke, anything. But in the end, he doesn’t. They’re not close enough, it would be weird. Bucky doesn’t want to bother Steve so instead, he drinks his coffee and gets back to work.

* * *

**_Steve_ **

Steve gets woken at 6 am sharp by the blaring sound of his alarm. He silences it and takes a cursory glance at his phone screen before burrowing himself back under the covers with a groan. December 1st. He’s tempted to book the day off work and hide himself away, but it’s not like he can take the whole month off—he already checked, Sam and Tony both said no—so he’s going to have to face the music at some point. He might as well rip the bandaid off and get it over with.

He hates Christmas. The music, the decorations, the obnoxious giddy cheer of the season. If it was confined to just a few days, heck even the week, around the 25th, Steve probably could have coped with it. But every year the Christmas celebrations creep in earlier and earlier. He saw some decorations for sale back in _September_ for crying out loud. It encroaches into everything he normally loves about Fall, and whilst it’s socially acceptable to be grumpy about Christmassy things in November and October, Steve never has a leg to stand on in December. Suddenly he’s the one being rude and obnoxious just because he doesn’t want the holiday thrown in his face.

When his alarm blares again after a 5-minute snooze, Steve bites the bullet, switches it off, and forces himself out of bed. He dresses quickly and packs his overnight oats and a thermos of coffee into his work bag. At least if he gets into the office early, he can hide himself away and try to minimize his contact with other people. He knows the transition from being warm and welcoming to sour and miserable doesn’t go unnoticed in the office, and honestly, that only ever makes things worse. He knows he’s being a grinch, he doesn’t need people teasing him for it. Like he’s suddenly going to fall in love with Christmas just because someone points that out to him.

_Gee, thanks mister, I didn’t realize I was being grumpy. Now you’ve told me—my heart will be full of Christmas cheer!_

Steve scowls at his reflection as he fixes his collar of his button-down beneath a soft beige sweater and adjusts the lay of his glasses on his nose. The worst thing, okay not the worst thing, but...Steve used to love Christmas. He’d count down the days until they could put up their tree. He’d agonize for hours making sure the presents were wrapped just right. Christmas movies were the only films they were allowed to watch in December, and he’d beg his ma to keep the Christmas lights up way past the Epiphany. She usually let him, even if their even stricter catholic neighbors would complain.

The air is cold and brisk when he steps outside. It tried to snow over the weekend but there’s no trace of the pitiful flakes left on the ground as Steve hurries down the street toward the subway station. He grimaces as he passes a few shops setting their Christmas wares outside their storefronts and the houses with strings of Christmas lights already hanging in their windows. He’s just glad he thought to pack a thermos and he won’t have to brave a coffee shop that morning. ‘Red cup’ season is truly the worst. How the baristas don’t go insane from the endlessly looped holiday songs or the smell of gingerbread and peppermint is beyond him.

Although he knows it’s futile—Bucky never gets the subway this early—Steve finds himself glancing around for any sign of him anyway. Normally the sight of Bucky would be enough to cheer Steve up and brighten his day. He often goes out of his way just to invent excuses to go up and visit his work floor, and they’re forever wasting time sending each other stupid messages on StarkChat when they should be working, but that morning Steve is secretly glad he’s avoided Bucky. No one loves Christmas more than Bucky does, and Steve needs to build up his tolerance again before he can deal with all of Bucky’s holiday spirit without offending him; which is the very last thing Steve wants to do. Bucky’s charming and sweet, and his enthusiasm would be utterly endearing if it wasn’t such a miserable time of year for Steve.

It’s a relief when Steve makes it into the office early enough to avoid even the first wave of Christmas shoppers. He greets Luis manning the desk downstairs and hums loudly to himself to block out the overly bright version of jingle bells playing in the elevator—luckily he’s the only one in the carriage at the time. His floor is empty when he arrives just after 8 am and he locks himself in his office, setting his calendar to ‘busy’ and burying himself in the mountain of work he actually has to do. He knows he can’t avoid everyone forever, there’s a project meeting at 10, discussing the launch of Stark’s new gadget, which does...something clever. Steve supposes he’ll have to figure out exactly _what_ if he’s meant to be producing graphics to help market it. But until then he’s left alone with the peace and quiet of his office.

It’s a nice space, bright and airy with a window that looks out onto the shiny glass facade of the building opposite. It bounces back the sky like a pair of mirrored aviators and Steve sometimes loses time tracking the reflections of the clouds that pass across them. It’s even brighter when he leaves his office door open and lets the light from the open-plan drawing office and huge windows across the hall flood into his space, but that morning he’s not brave enough to open the door. Not until he has to.

“Damn, I lose,” Sharon comments when Steve enters the conference room at 9:57, unsurprised to find she’s already there setting up. The launch is all resting on her capable shoulders, after all.

“Lose what?”

“The betting pool. I bet you had a black eye.”

“There was a betting pool?” he asks as he takes a seat across the table from her. But of course, there was. At Stark Industries there was a betting pool for _everything_. Even the annual Secret Santa went hand in hand with running odds on who got paired with who and—more importantly—who’d spill the beans first, or who’d go over budget. Which reminded Steve that it would be time to dole out the names for that again soon. The only thing worse than Christmas shopping was Christmas shopping for someone who didn’t know very well.

“As to why you locked yourself away this morning, yeah. Short odds were you shaved your beard and realized you looked twelve years old without it, long odds were a hickey.”

“Hardy-har,” Steve says without even pretending to laugh.

“More fool them—anyone who knows you, knows you haven’t dated in a decade.” She flashes him a sly grin before busying herself with hooking her laptop up to Stark’s elaborate tabletop conferencing system and holographic display. “The boring answers included that you had a cold, or that you were genuinely busy,” she adds with a shrug.

Steve just rolls his eyes. “Glad to know everyone cares so much about my well-being.” He takes a sip of coffee and scrolls through some emails as he waits for the meeting room to fill up.

“Sorry, I’m late!” Bucky exhales in a harried fluster, not even five minutes past ten, certainly not late by Steve’s standards. Steve glances from his phone to see Bucky looking adorably flushed, with a stray curl fallen loose from the half-bun the rest of his hair is pulled back into. He gives Steve a wide smile when he notices Steve looking and hurries to one of the only seats left around the table, which just happens to be beside Steve.

“Hey,” Steve greets him and kicks out the chair for him. It’s only when Bucky’s sinking into it and straightening out his tablet and old-school pen and paper on the table that Steve realizes the little white dots that are speckled across Bucky’s deep green sweater, are little tiny snowflakes.

“Hi.” Bucky smiles back at him brightly. “Missed you on the subway this morning,” he adds under his breath as Sharon gears up to start the meeting.

“Had an early start,” Steve manages to reply.

“Everything okay?”

“Fine. You weren’t betting on a black eye too, were you?” he adds, but Bucky just blinks at him blankly. Maybe Sharon had been lying about the betting pool—Steve wouldn’t put it past her. “Nevermind. Little early for Christmas jumpers, isn’t it?” He changes tack. Bucky’s grin grows brighter, and Steve thinks it might be worth putting up with a month’s worth of Christmas just to see Bucky smile like that.

“Never.”

* * *

**_Bucky_ **

Bucky tries his best to concentrate on Sharon as she starts the meeting but he can’t help the sideways glances he gives Steve. He looks okay, he’s in one piece, with all of his limbs, and hair and beard perfectly trimmed and soft looking as always. _Christ, who looks that good in beige_? Bucky thinks. Steve is taking quick notes on his StarkPad, resting the pen against his full bottom lip while he listens to the presentation and Bucky doesn’t remember a single word of what Sharon has said so far.

Quickly enough he’s brought back to reality when she calls Bucky’s name to the front of the room for his part of the presentation. He tries not to look too guilty as he looks away from Steve but the knowing smile Sharon gives him means he didn’t fool her at all. Bucky gets up and gathers his notebook before walking to the screen and quickly enough, with a few jokes and puns, he charms the whole room.

When it’s over and all of them are walking back to their respective office space, Bucky finds himself following Steve. He can’t shake away the worry he feels about him. Steve Rogers shouldn’t be sad. He should spend his days drawing happily in sunlit rooms and he should smile, always, because Bucky loves the little lines it paints around his pretty blue eyes.

“Hey, Steve?” he calls, when he reaches him, in a bout of courage he squeezes at Steve’s shoulder and he feels his knees buckle at the feel of those strong muscles under his palm.

“Are you okay? You look a bit…off.”

Steve gives him a small smile, though it is a sad one. He doesn’t shy away from Bucky’s touch and doesn't make it weird either. Steve even leans a bit closer to Bucky, filling his nose and all of his senses with the warm, sweet scent of him.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about me, Bucky.”

With those words, Steve reaches up and squeezes softly at Bucky’s hand still resting on his shoulder and the mere contact of their skin against each other brings colors to Bucky’s cheeks, he just knows it. Steve then takes a step back, breaking the contact between them, and then turns around, walking to his office, and again, he closes the door behind him. Bucky sighs, standing there and looking at Steve's closed door with sad eyes.

Back to his own space, Bucky grabs the box of decorations and starts hanging them around as a way to cheer himself up. Cute little garlands shaped like Christmas trees, little snowmen, and Santa Claus figurines are now lined up on his desk all around his computer. He even gets up on his chair, almost falling from it a few times, to hang up stars and snowflakes from the ceiling, that’s how dedicated he is, turning his office into a little winter wonderland each year.

The rest of the day he is busy enough to forget about Steve entirely, Bucky even eats his lunch in his office because Tony sends a few important emails his way and he needs to fix a few things rather urgently. As the clock strikes the end of the day, he grabs his messenger bag and makes a detour to Steve’s office, maybe he wants some company on his way back home. But sadly, the door is still closed. He is still inside, Bucky can see his silhouette through the frosted glass, but he doesn’t dare knock or disturb him. Instead, he reaches inside of his bag and picks a pretty silver star that he didn’t get to hang anywhere into his own space. He slips it under the corner of the name tag on the door.

 _Steven G. Rogers_.

Bucky looks around, and then softly traces the letter of Steve’s name. With a sigh, he turns around and makes his way out, fighting against the urge to look over his shoulder one last time.

❄️⛄❄️

That evening, after feeding a starving Alpine and heating some lasagna his mother gave him the last time he saw her, Bucky decides to set up his Christmas tree. He put some music on, something happy and festive and he gets to work. He misses deeply the joy of getting a real tree, but since he lives on the fourth floor of a small apartment in the middle of New York, hiking a tree up there by himself isn’t the most convenient. He hangs his colorful baubles on the branches, then garlands, and flashing lights. Alpine is no help, boxing at the branches and what’s on them.

Once Bucky is done and happy with his work, he turns off all the lights of his living room and switches on the tree. He sits on his couch and watches it, a small content smile on his lips. Alpine is under the tree, purring and looking up at the flashing lights above her.

Bucky’s thoughts start wandering back to Steve and to how sad he was. Looking up at his tree with Christmas music filling his ears, Bucky can’t understand how this time of the year can make anyone sad. Maybe Steve doesn’t have a big family? Maybe he fought with his parents…? He’s such a nice, happy person all year round, why does he always turn so sour this time of the year?

Bucky thinks about the Secret Santa they organize each year. He’s the one in charge this time, maybe he could rig the whole thing and keep Steve’s gift to himself. Maybe he could try to make Steve’s Christmas a good one this year. He could go and ask around what he likes. He could stalk his Facebook. _Again_. Or his Instagram account. Bucky didn’t dare follow him on there because Bucky’s account is pretty empty apart from pictures of food or Alpine being silly. But Steve’s…Steve’s is so full of artistic pictures. There are some landscapes, some pictures of the city’s buildings, of people laughing and running around Central Park.

Nobody would know it, if he cheats a little and picks Steve’s name for himself, right?

Once he starts nodding off and sees it’s way past 11, Bucky turns the Christmas lights off and makes his way to the bathroom, taking a hot shower before slipping into bed, Alpine curled at his feet like always. He falls asleep thinking about gift ideas for Steve, imagining his bright smile as he rips the paper off. Maybe he’ll be so happy, so grateful, that he’ll grab Bucky around the waist and pull him in a passionate kiss? _Yeah. That would be nice_ , Bucky thinks smiling sleepily into his pillow before he finally drifts off.

* * *

**_Steve_ **

“So it’s true.” Sam breezes right through Steve’s closed office door and props himself on the window ledge behind Steve’s shoulder.

Steve finishes composing the sentence he’d been writing when Sam barged in before he turns to arch an eyebrow at him.

“What’s true?”

“You’ve locked yourself away.”

Steve sighs and takes off his glasses to pinch his nose. “I just needed some space. It’s…”

“I know.” Sam claps a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Anyway, it’s lunchtime and I’m not letting you wallow in here. “There’s leftovers from some big client meeting on the tenth floor. Come grab a plate before we put it on StarkChat and the gannets descend.”

Steve glances at the clock and finds, to his surprise, that it’s nearly 2 pm. Where did the morning disappear to? He also belatedly realizes that he is in fact starving. “Yeah, okay.”

There’s a big sushi spread in the middle of the conference table that’s barely been picked at by whichever clients were present for the meeting, and Steve and Sam both load up platefuls before Sam gives the all-clear for the message to go out company-wide. Unsurprisingly, the interns turn up first—seconds after Sam sends out the memo. Some of them even have tupperware to box up more leftovers. It’s one of the perks of working for such a big company, there’s generally free food lurking around in the building somewhere.

Sam’s office being the closest, the head towards it and Steve sits himself in Sam’s visitor chair to dig into his lunch. He can’t help but notice a big box marked ‘X-MAS OFFICE’ in the corner of the room, balanced a little precariously on top of a wonky stack of files, but thankfully Sam hasn’t started decorating it yet. He seems to accumulate more and more decorations every year and by the time the office closes on Christmas eve, his place looks like Santa's grotto.

“Bucky’s got the jump on you this year, then. He’s already wearing a festive sweater,” Steve comments in between mouthfuls of a king crab roll.

“Ugh.” Sam rolls his eyes, looking genuinely upset by that. “And he’s already started decorating. Clearly has too much time on his hands.” Sam shakes his head.

It’s no small secret that Sam and Bucky try to outdo each other with their office decorations every year. Which is always bittersweet for Steve. He normally loves making excuses to stop by Bucky’s office and see his beautiful smile every chance he gets. But once it becomes an explosion of snowflakes, tinsel, and fairy lights, Steve has to steel himself before making the trip.

“I may stick around later this evening to get started on decorating—which means I’ll probably miss drinks. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Steve shrugs. Although the bars normally hold out longer than the coffee shops before they start churning out Christmas tunes, Steve isn’t in the mood for drinking that evening anyway. “I was thinking of going to the gym this evening instead. Blow off some steam.”

“You still good for dinner tomorrow evening, though? You know my mom’s still guilty you can’t come to our Christmas this year, so she’s gonna make sure she feeds you up as much as she can before then.” Sam laughs.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” Friday night dinner at Sam’s mom’s place in Harlem is a long-standing tradition. At least once a month she makes sure Steve is reminded of what a good home-cooked meal tastes like.

“You figured out plans yet?”

“Not yet.” Steve tries not to sigh, but he can’t help his shoulders from slumping a little. Honestly, he’s tried _not_ to think about it yet. The prospect of spending Christmas alone is entirely unappealing, but Sam’s entire family is flying out for his cousin’s destination wedding. He forces himself to smile at Sam. “I’ll find something,” he says with as much confidence as he can. Sharon’s invited him over to hers before, or he could always go and volunteer in a soup kitchen or something. Besides, there’s 24 days left to worry about that. He’ll figure something out.

❄️⛄❄️

Steve manages to busy himself with getting a headstart on designs for the product launch all afternoon, fondly remembering Bucky’s charming smile and how competently he’d explained everything in the technical briefing that morning as he pours through his notes. A few people stop by with proofs that need approving and there’s an endless flood of emails to sort through, but mostly he’s left to himself. He spots a few people hesitate through the frosted glass outside his closed door, and he’s tempted to force himself to open his door and interact—but they always disappear before he can build up the courage.

He’ll be back to an open door policy tomorrow, he tells himself as justification. December 1st is just an especially difficult day for him.

He stays later than he should, lost in sketching out ideas, and it’s fully dark by the time he shuts his workstation down for the day. The floor outside his office is nearly empty already and down the corridor, most of the office lights have switched themselves off. It’s only when he’s locking up his office door that Steve spots the shiny silver star tucked under the nameplate on his door. He freezes, staring at it whilst his breath catches in his lungs. There’s only one person who would have put that there, and Steve chides himself for missing Bucky.

It’s just a star, hardly Christmassy on it’s own, but it looks just like the string of silver stars Steve used to hang up in the front window of his childhood home and Steve is torn between conflicting emotions. He’s in half a mind to crush it in his fist and drop it in the nearest trashcan—and if anyone else had given it to him, he certainly would have done. Steve isn’t sure how he knows the star is from Bucky, or why that matters, but he ends up pocketing it and locking up his door with decisive motions.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Bucky_ **

They usually try to make the Secret Santa draw on the first Friday of December. They all get together for lunch that day, making some sort of potluck where Tony always brings too much and they end up feeling sleepy all afternoon. Bucky is in charge of it this year, it’s usually him, or Sam and sometimes Sharon. He feels nervous as hell as he writes everyone’s name on little slips on paper. They do work in some pretty advanced company, technology-wise, and yet, there’s nothing like just closing your eyes and picking a name from a bright red Christmas hat. 

A few minutes before noon, Bucky sneaks the piece of paper with Steve’s name and folds it neatly in his pocket. He feels like he’s breaking the law or something; like he’s going to get caught red-handed as soon as he walks in the lunchroom. He did his fair amount of questionable things in his younger days, but apparently, he’s a grandpa now who’s scared of getting caught cheating at his office’s Secret Santa.

Steve was a bit better for the rest of the week. He still looks grumpier than usual, but at least, he didn’t lock himself in his office again. They even took the subway together yesterday morning, and Steve waited for him at the end of the day for them to go back home together as well. That’s what sealed the deal for Bucky about the whole cheating thing. Steve’s soft smile as he was listening to Bucky ramble about Alpine and how she keeps stealing baubles from his Christmas tree at home and how he even found one of them in her litter box. It’s the way Steve reached out quickly to grab at Bucky’s waist when the subway came to a stop quite abruptly and he almost fell over. The feeling of his strong hands, the way he thought he saw a pretty blush take over Steve’s cheeks as he did. 

He gets his own dish out of the refrigerator, some stuffed mushrooms he did last night because he didn’t have much at home, and then sits at the end of the table with the Christmas hat on his lap and Steve’s name burning a hole in the pocket of his bright red cardigan. There’s the shape of a white beard and Christmas hat on the back. Very minimalistic. His mother knitted it for him a few years back, and it’s the softest thing he owns. He wouldn’t call it an ugly sweater at all, because he is way too fond of it.

His colleagues slowly start to get in, grabbing their dishes and spreading them all over the table. When Sam gets in, he starts distributing paper plates to everyone, before sitting next to Bucky at the end of the table. Steve is the last one to get in, he's brought some desert, as he always does, and Bucky cranes his neck to see what it is because Steve’s sugary treats are always the best. It looks like there’s some caramel drizzled on top of tiny cupcakes and Bucky looks up to send a bright smile Steve’s way and it makes Steve chuckle and shake his head. 

Once everybody is sitting down with their plates, Bucky gets up and starts passing around the Christmas hat as everyone picks up a name from it. He sees a few grimaces, a few bright eyes, and knowing smiles. Steve, when he picks out a piece of paper, keeps his face completely blank and Bucky tries not to act too disappointed at that. Once everyone is done, he slips a hand into his own pocket, looking around first and making sure everyone is too busy talking and eating and he makes a show of faking it, as he draws what he knows is Steve’s name from the hat. 

Bucky notices that Sharon is looking around the room with a very calculating expression on her face. It looks like she is on a mission and Bucky wonders if she is trying to find out who picked her… Or maybe she’s trying to know who picked Natasha. They just started dating, after months of dancing around each other, it will be their very first Christmas together. 

Like each year, Steve is one of the very first one to slip out of the lunchroom, but not before filling his plate with a few little desert pieces, Bucky notices he didn’t take his own, leaving them for his colleagues. He kind of wants to go after him now, but it won’t be subtle right? If he just walks after him asking _Yeah so, what do you want for Christmas?_ He’ll try asking Sam or maybe Sharon first, they are two of Steve’s closest friends here at Stark Industries. Bucky knows none of them would talk to Steve about it. But he does know that they will tease him endlessly, both of them very aware of his… affection, for Steve.

He notices how Sharon quickly gets up to go after Steve, though, sending a quick smile to Natasha as she goes, motioning to her that she’ll be back soon. Natasha gives her a wink before going back to her mini coconut pie and her discussion with Tony. 

Sam and Bucky stay behind to clean up everything afterwards. Sam jumped on the ugly sweater bandwagon this week. It’s purple and has a big Christmas tree on the front and the sweater is quite ugly but, purple looks really good against Sam’s skin and with his bright gapped tooth smile you easily forget what he is wearing. Bucky tries very hard not to ask questions about Steve already, but Sam beats him up to it, 

“So, are you happy with your pick?” he says with a knowing smile.

“Uh, yeah, of course. You?” Bucky replies and he knows his face is red, he just knows it.

“Oooooh. I know that blush, Barnes, did you finally get Steve after years and years of wishing for it?”

Bucky feels ashamed all of a sudden because, yes, he did, but only because he cheated. He turns his back to Sam to hide his face from him because he knows he is going to read right through it if he sees the expression on Bucky’s face.

“Maybe,” he grumbles, trying to hide his excitement about it.

“I could help, you know. Steve isn’t the easiest person around Christmas time, but if you like I could give you a few ideas,” Sam adds voice soft and warm with understanding. 

Bucky turns around and gives him an answering smile, “Thanks Sam, I’d like that. I just… I’d like to give him a nice Christmas this year, you know? Like… I don’t know why it’s so hard for him each year but I’d like to make this one better for him. I think he deserves that.” 

And wow, okay Bucky might have said a bit too much here, maybe he went a bit too hard and he clearly didn’t hide his feelings for Steve very well just now. But when he looks back up at Sam after a few embarrassing seconds of just looking at the floor and rubbing at the back of his neck, Sam's smile is fond, he almost looks emotional.

“Barnes, I’m really happy you picked him this year,” he says, reaching over to squeeze at Bucky’s shoulder, “I think he really needs that, yeah.”

Bucky feels relief wash over him at Sam’s words. He feels pride at the fact that his idea, even if he bent the rules just a little, was a good one. He has Steve’s friend seal of approval and that’s all he needed really. He trusts Sam to be a good wingman on this gift buying adventure he just hopped on. It’s going to be a great Christmas, he just knows it.

❄️⛄❄️

Bucky is done with work a bit early on Friday afternoon and he decides to leave, not wanting to start anything big knowing he won’t be able to finish it. He turns his computer off and grabs his messenger bag, and his empty plastic container under his arm, and then locks his door. He can’t help but make a small detour to Steve’s floor, feeling the need to talk to him one last time before the weekend. 

When he turns the corner he sees that Steve is also leaving, locking his office door and he looks up, spotting Bucky instantly. Steve smiles at Bucky, laughing lines around his eyes and plump pink lips stretched over white straight teeth. It’s contagious, Steve’s smile. You cannot stand there without replying to it with a smile of your own. Or maybe that’s just Bucky who’s way too gone for the man. 

“Are you done too?” Steve asks, making his way towards Bucky, “Let me,” he says, grabbing at Bucky’s Tupperware and holding it for him. It makes Bucky sputter, as he tries to get it back, he doesn’t need Steve to carry his stuff, he is perfectly capable of doing it himself. 

“It’s fine, I can carry it myself,” Bucky says trying to take it back from him, Steve only tuts and bats his hands away, resting the thing on his hip. 

“It’s okay, you have your bag already,” Steve says before making his way towards the elevator. He presses the ground floor and then looks at Bucky sideways and Bucky doesn’t know what to do with his hands suddenly so he starts playing with the hem of his cardigan. 

“Is it handmade?” Steve asks him, and Bucky looks up at Steve, then down at his sweater, quickly letting go of it.

“Oh! Um, yeah, my mom knitted it for me.”

And just like that, the air around them turns cold. Steve’s smile is gone, and his knuckles turn white from where they are wrapped around Bucky’s old Tupperware.

“That’s nice of her,” Steve says but there’s something wrong in his voice, something wrong about his demeanor. It’s like a switch has been turned off and Bucky doesn’t know why. Is this about Steve’s mom? They stand there in silence for a moment, the tension between them thick and uncomfortable and Bucky wishes he could go back in time. Wish he could just rewind the tape for a few minutes. He wants to be back when their fingers brushed as Steve picked the plastic tub from his hands. The way he smiled at Bucky, bright and happy like seeing Bucky was the highlight of his day. 

_Think, Bucky, think. Say something, change the subject, quick!_

“Um. Your cupcakes were delicious by the way, as always. Might have eaten two of them,” Bucky says with a light embarrassed chuckle. He looks at Steve, worried, but he sees the other man's shoulders relax at that, a small smile stretches his lips a bit sideways and he looks at Bucky for a few seconds. Steve sighs a little defeated but the atmosphere feels lighter and Bucky is glad. Steve presses a shoulder to Bucky and leans closer, enough to make Bucky’s breath stutter and his heart do a little tap dance number in his chest.

“Thanks, Buck. I know how much you like caramel.”

“Meh, I’m easy for anything sweet, really,” Bucky says, pressing back against Steve’s warm body. He doesn’t know if he dreams the next few seconds. If it’s only wishful thinking or if it’s Steve's intoxicating smell getting to his head but Steve licks his lips, cheeks red. He then looks down at Bucky’s mouth and bites down on his own bottom lip. To think that just a few moments ago, the air in the elevator felt cold and awkward, and now… Now Bucky feels like he might catch on fire with Steve’s eyes on him like that. 

Too soon for Bucky’s liking, Steve leans away, clears his throat, and says, his voice rough, and low, and filled with something Bucky can’t name, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

_**Steve** _

It’s not normal how crazy everyone at Stark Industries gets at Christmas time. At least, Steve doesn’t _think_ it’s normal. He’s heard of other companies organizing an office Secret Santa every year and even he agrees that it’s a nice gesture, but he doubts that other companies block out a whole lunchtime meeting and turn it into a big pot luck affair; but then again when there’s an opportunity to throw a party, Tony Stark never passes it up. 

It’s not just only Christmas that gets celebrated in the office, Stark Industries is an equal opportunity employer. Eid, Diwali, Hanukkah, Holi—they all get celebrated in some shape or form in the office. Then there’s the all-out Fourth of July celebrations and annual company retreat. There doesn’t seem to be a month without something to celebrate, and with everyone’s birthdays on top of that, there’s usually a cake or some kind of party happening in the big cafeteria up on the twenty-second floor. It fills a whole section of the building, with giant floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides looking out over the Manhattan skyline and it really is a great place for everyone to meet up. 

Everyone is already gathered around the tables when Steve ducks in a little later than planned. He’d been psyching himself up in his office beforehand and had almost forgotten to bring the little caramel cupcakes he’d stayed up half the night baking. He added them to the end of the desert row and puts on the biggest smile he can muster as he joins the queue to fill his plate from the vast array of dishes on offer. He manages to snag some of the stuffed mushrooms which smell particularly wonderful, and a helping of some creamy pasta and mountains of a leafy green lettuce everyone else seemed to be avoiding.

Sam beckons him over and Steve slides into a seat at the end of his table, across from Maria and Carol. There’s an air of excitement from everyone and pleasant conversation buzzes around the room. Steve tracks Bucky who starts going from table to table with the Santa hat full of names. He looks completely in his element, laughing and smiling and teasing people as they look either delighted or horrified with their picks. There’s an undercurrent of nervousness in his expression though, which Steve puts down the pressure of organizing this whole thing which he does, pretty much on his own every year. 

Bucky smiles brightly at Steve when Steve fishes into the Santa hat to pull out a folded piece of paper. _‘Natasha Romanov, Information Security_ ’ reads the little slip of paper. Steve tries to school his face into something neutral, so as not to betray his reaction—which is one of blind panic. He doesn’t know Natasha very well, but what he does know is that she’s notoriously difficult to buy gifts for. He glances across at her, the first chance he gets. She’s sitting next to Sharon with their heads bent together, clearly calculating who everyone else plucked from the draw; with unnerving accuracy no doubt. 

Sharon catches his eye and winks and Steve feels very _seen_. He wolfs down the rest of his dinner and takes a few portions of desert to see him through the afternoon, disappearing from the cafeteria as soon as the lunch hour is up. He knows that everyone will string their meals out for longer, and he knows that Tony won’t care; the Secret Santa draw day is pretty much a write-off as far as the company is concerned. But Steve really does have work to do, especially with the product launch looming early in the new year. 

He’s barely made it back to his office when Sharon corners him, slipping through the door and closing it behind her. She folds her arms and fixes him with a stare. 

“So, you’ve got Natasha,” she says, straight to the point.

“How the hell did you figure that out?”

“Please, you’re like an open book, Rogers.” Sharon shakes her head. 

Steve doesn’t try to deny it, he just sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “Any tips on what I should buy her?”

“Actually, I was hoping you might have some pointers for me.” 

“Aren’t you dating?” Steve asks, confused. They’d got together at the Fourth of July barbecue, it had been a whole thing.

“Exactly. This is our first big holiday as a couple, and I’m kind of freaking out. I have no idea what to get her.” Sharon does look a little alarmed by the prospect. But then, she’s never really been a big fan of the holidays either. 

“Well, sorry I’m not much help.”

Sharon huffs a laugh. “Didn’t really expect you to be. If you do happen to think of anything, let me know? Oh and, make sure it’s a good gift, but not _too_ great? Try not to outshine whatever I buy.”

“I’ll try not to.” Steve laughs. “Who did you get?”

“Lillian, from accounting?”

“Oh, lip piercing, right?”

“That’s the one.”

“Any idea what you’re gonna get her?”

“Not really. Some candles, maybe? A nice scarf? It’s almost easier to buy presents when you don’t know them at all.”

“True.” Steve laughed. “Do you know who got you?”

“Oh yeah. Cameron, from ops. He looked up at me, terrified, right after he pulled my name.” Sharon cackled with delight. “I’m gonna tease him for weeks, dropping all sorts of ridiculous gift suggestions in front of him.” 

Steve shakes his head, feeling sorry for the poor guy. “Any ideas on who got me?”

Sharon suddenly looks sly. “I think I’ve got a pretty good idea.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve presses when she doesn’t elaborate. “Who?”

Sharon mines zipping her lips. “It’s a _secret_ Santa, Steve. The clue’s in the name.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Nope.” She smiles and Steve can tell that he isn’t going to be able to pry it from her. He was too focused on his own name and too distracted by Bucky to have paid any attention to who might have picked his name. But he supposes it can’t really be any worse than the festive tie Sitwell got him last year. Steve has never once worn a tie to the office in his life, and he certainly wouldn’t have a use for one patterned with creepy looking Father Christmases. “First Christmas with Nat, then. I guess you’re spending it together?” Steve drops the subject of the Secret Santa and moves on to his next pressing concern.

“Yeah, my roommate’s going out of town, so it’s just going to be the two of us. I’m nervous, but really looking forward to it.” Sharon gushes, going a little pink in the cheeks as she speaks.

Steve smiles, filled with happiness for her, even though that means striking Sharon off his list of potential Christmas alternatives.

“You spending it with Sam again?”

“Er, no. His family are busy with his cousin’s wedding.” Steve tries to keep his voice neutral and unconcerned, but Sharon’s expression flickers with worry anyway. 

“Oh, that’s right. You gonna be alone then?”

“Hopefully not, I’m sure I’ll figure out something.” Steve forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Shit. You know, if it were any other year—I’d invite you to mine.”

“No, Sharon, it’s fine,” Steve promises. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” She doesn't look convinced, but what else is there to say? She pushes herself away from the door frame and smooths out her trousers. “Well, I’d better get back to work. I hope you figure something out.”

“Me too.”

She nods, gives him a pitying smile—which Steve hates—then, cracks open the door. “Oh,” she says just as she’s about to leave. “Those caramel cupcakes were delicious, by the way. If you wanted to just gift Natasha a lifetime supply of those, I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.” She winks and then finally leaves him in peace, leaving his door wide open in her wake. Steve doesn’t stand up to close it. 

He manages to get a decent amount of work done that afternoon, and perhaps he, maybe, starts surreptitiously googling potential gift ideas for Natasha on his phone whilst he waits for files to load and render on his machine. 

There’s definitely more of a relaxed atmosphere in the office after the draw and when everyone on his floor starts to pack up early, Steve doesn’t have the motivation to stay and work any later. He’s just locking up his door when he sees Bucky in the corridor. He feels himself light up at the sight.

“Are you done too?” Steve asks brightly, it’s always more fun commuting home with Bucky, and having someone to talk to whilst they squish onto the subway helps distract Steve from the obscene amount of Christmas shoppers and tourists already descending on the city. Bucky’s balancing a large tupperware box along with his messenger bag and Steve’s chivalrous nature makes him reach for it automatically. “Let me,” he offers. 

Bucky puts up a token protest but when Steve tuts and bats Bucky’s hands away with another smile, Bucky just rolls his eyes and lets Steve place it on his hip. 

They ride the elevator down together and up close, Steve has plenty of time to admire the pattern on Bucky's cardigan. It’s Christmas themed, obviously, a vibrant red colour with white details around the collar, cuffs and button band, and a minimalist Santa design on the back. It’s a beautiful knit, put together with far more care than anything you might pick off the shelves of a store. 

“Is it handmade?” Steve asks, belatedly realising he’s admitting to having been staring at Bucky’s cardigan. 

Thankfully Bucky doesn’t call him out on that, though he does glance up a little surprised. “Oh, um yeah. My mom knitted it for me.” 

Steve’s heart clenches in his chest. “That’s nice of her,” he manages to reply, but it sounds stilted and forced. He knows it does, and he doesn’t mean to sour the mood in the elevator but he’s already feeling fraught from the idea of spending Christmas alone this year, that he can’t summon the energy to fake his emotions. 

He shifts his weight and grips Bucky’s tupperware box in his hands, cursing himself internally for ruining what had promised to be a pleasant journey home. God, why does it still bother him so much, after all this time?

“Um. Your cupcakes were delicious by the way, as always. Might have eaten two of them.” Bucky changes the subject with brilliant tact and a light chuckle. 

Steve glances up at Bucky from under his lashes and breathes easier. He’ll never admit it, he barely wants to admit it to himself, but he baked the cupcakes with Bucky in mind. “Thanks, Buck. I know how much you like caramel.” He presses their shoulders together and hopes Bucky can’t notice how much he’s blushing. 

“Meh, I’m easy for anything sweet, really.” Bucky presses back and gives Steve a warm smile that makes Steve go weak at the knees. There’s almost no space between them in the elevator, and Bucky’s mouth is right there. It would be very easy to give in to the temptation that’s been burning at the back of Steve’s mind practically since he first laid eyes on Bucky. But he catches himself before he does anything stupid and pulls himself away. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Steve clears his throat and smiles before looking away and taking a deep breath to ground himself. Any time he gets to spend with Bucky is always the highlight of his day, and he doesn’t want to risk jeopardizing that by doing something impulsive. He doubts Bucky would be interested in him like that, if he was then surely he’d have said something, what with all the times Steve’s asked him out for coffee or lingered late at work just to walk him home. By now, Steve is pretty certain they're just friends. “The mushrooms you made were really great too. You’ll have to give me the recipe.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to blush. “Oh,” he says. “It’s just something I threw together, there wasn’t really a recipe.” He laughs.

“Really? That’s impressive, I can’t cook anything unless I’m following detailed instructions.”

Bucky shrugs, clearly embarrassed by the compliment. “I grew up helping my mom and sisters cook, they never seem to follow a recipe. You just gotta cook with your heart, that’s what my Grandma always said anyway.”

“Sounds like solid advice.” Steve smiles again, feeling less bitter this time. “How many sisters do you have?”

“Three,” Bucky answers as the elevator drops them in the lobby and they head across towards the doors and the crowd of commuters heading towards the subway. “Two older, both married with kids, and one younger.” He shakes his head and laughs. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Only child.” Steve shakes his head and has to lift Bucky’s tupperware box up and over a Christmas shopper with a small child that has unhelpfully stalled in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“Lucky,” Bucky laughs. 

“Less Christmas shopping, I guess.” Steve allows, trying to steer clear of that territory. He never felt particularly lucky to be an only child, or for the fact that he’s probably never going to have kids of his own and won’t even have any nieces or nephews to spoil. With the Secret Santa taking care of everyone at work, Steve really only has Sam’s family—he’ll still buy Sam and his mom something for Christmas even if he isn’t joining them this year—and few good friends from college who normally send each other ridiculous novelty items, and a couple of his neighbors to buy presents for. “Did you get anyone good in the Secret Santa?” Steve has to focus on navigating the narrow subway steps, so he doesn’t see Bucky’s face as he answers, in fact, he doesn’t hear Bucky’s answer at all until they’ve swiped through the turnstiles and jumped onto a train that pulled into the platform at an opportune moment. Steve finds a spot against the wall and grabs onto an overhead handle, propping Bucky’s box carefully on his hip whilst Bucky presses in close beside him and grabs onto a pole. 

“So who’ve you got?”

“It's a _secret_ Steve!”Bucky protests, looking rather pink-cheeked and adorable. 

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Steve doesn’t press. Bucky is in charge of it, after all, it’s not a surprise he wants to keep it a secret. “Got any ideas of what you’re gonna get them?”

“Nope.” Bucky sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “I’ve got so many presents to buy this year, and I’m stumped on most of them. Ruth—that’s my oldest sister—just had another baby, so I’ve got her three, and Rachel’s kid, plus Becca and mom and dad, and all their partners to get presents for.” Bucky shakes his head. “I have no idea what to get them. The kids _love_ books, the older ones anyway, which is great and I’d love to get a nice book or something, but Becca owns a bookshop so trying to buy them something they don’t already have is basically impossible.” 

“Ah, yeah I can imagine. A book is a lovely idea though, the books you treasure as a kid stick with you. I remember I had this old book of fairytales when I was younger, I knew every story by heart and it had the most beautiful illustrations. I loved that book.” Steve remembers fondly. 

“Had? What happened to it?”

Steve’s tongue sticks in his throat and he shakes his head. “Lost in a move,” he answers, which is only half the truth, but it’s the only half he’s prepared to talk about without crying.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you remember what it was called?” 

“I dunno if it’s still in print,” Steve admits, feeling foolish for suggesting a book for Bucky’s nieces and nephews that probably doesn’t even exist anymore. “It was just called ‘Old, Old Fairy Tales’. I’m sure there’s other, newer versions of it though, or something similar.” He smiles, hoping it's not a stupid suggestion. Thankfully, Bucky’s smiling back, so Steve has to assume it wasn’t. 

The subway trundles over Manhattan Bridge. Gone 5 pm it’s already dark out and the city lights twinkle through the struts of the bridge. Though it’s a view he’s seen a hundred times before, Steve still goes quiet to watch the city zip past the window, before the carriage sinks back underground and spits them out on 7th Ave station. This is where they invariably part ways, and it’s always a bittersweet moment, especially on a Friday when Steve knows he won’t see Bucky again until Monday morning. No matter how close they are at work, they’ve never made the transition to hanging out after hours—not unless it’s drinking with a larger group of colleagues anyway. Steve hesitates as they reach the street where their paths diverge and is delighted when Bucky hesitates too. 

“See you Monday?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, um,” Steve falters. If Bucky’s lingering, that might mean he wants to prolong things too? Steve’s about to ask Bucky if maybe he wants to go for a drink when Bucky gestures to his tupperware box.

“I can take that now.”

“Right. Of course.” Steve hands it over, feeling foolish. Of course, Bucky wasn’t loitering for any other reason. “Have a good weekend!” Steve wishes as brightly as he can before fleeing and feeling his cheeks burn as he does. Who is he kidding? What would someone like Bucky see in someone like Steve?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all of your comments! We're glad you like it so far 😄✨

_**Bucky** _

“ _I can take that now,_ ” Bucky repeats, mocking himself. Steve was standing there, looking beautiful and smiling at him, holding Bucky’s stuff like the _gentleman_ that he is. Bucky could have asked him for a drink or something, they could have gotten dinner somewhere and kept talking but no. Bucky is too awkward for his own good so instead, he just grabbed his Tupperware and turned around, cursing the world for making Steve Rogers so damn attractive that Bucky forgets how to function properly when he’s near. He tries not to read too much into the moment they shared earlier in the elevator. It was _a moment_ right? Yeah, he can’t think about it now, he’s gonna burst into flames in the middle of the sidewalk.

He gets to his building, greetings Mrs Davidson as they meet in the doorway. She thanks him, with her soft cheeks always pink and her eyes still shining with youth even through her old age. She slips a candy in the pocket of his jacket as she always does.

Alpine acts like she hasn’t been fed in twelve years when he gets in, like she does every night. He feeds her and then pours himself a tall glass of wine. He then gets in the bath, with dim lights and soft music playing in the background. He’ll think about dinner later, for now, he just needs to relax a little, unwind from the crazy busy week he just had. His thoughts, like they pretty much always do, wander to Steve. He thinks that his aversion to the holidays might be family related… Because he closes off whenever Bucky mentions family members, there’s this yearning oozing from him whenever they talk about it.

As he is drying himself off, thinking about ordering some Thai food, he is struck by the most wonderful gift idea ever. He would probably need a bit of help, but he thinks that he will definitely win at Christmas gifts if it works.

❄️⛄❄️

And just like that, December flows way too quickly, like it does each year. Bucky gets up in the morning, and with every passing week, ups his game of ugly Christmas sweaters. They get a few snow days, but it melts as soon as it falls, not enough to leave a pretty white coat all over the city of New York. It does get colder and colder, so Bucky gets out his scarves and mittens that his mom lovingly knits for them every few years. Some are very Christmassy, others are just colorful and warm.

Steve and him get in and out of work at the same time almost every day of the week now. They wait for each other and they just talk. Sometimes it’s just silly stuff, like how Steve just ate the best falafel of his life the day before, or how Bucky woke up in the middle of the night to Alpine grooming his hair. Sometimes it’s a bit deeper, like their high school years, the bullying, the self-discoveries. Sometimes it’s about favorite books or movies or their latest Netflix find. Bucky shares about his family, how he managed to find gifts for all of his nephews and nieces, and even his sisters. How he almost lost an arm at Macy’s a few days before because he apparently picked up the last pair of wool socks this lady really, really wanted and she grabbed them from his hands before running away.

“What did you do?” Steve asks him, half amused, half horrified.

“I asked one of the employees and apparently they had a lot of them in the storeroom. She even gave me a free pair to apologize for the rude lady.”

“The power of socks,” Steve says, shaking his head in disbelief.

But as Bucky talks about his family, and about how yes, for his dad, socks are a very important business, Steve doesn’t say anything. He listens, closely, and with interest, because that’s how Steve is. But Bucky doesn’t learn anything about what kind of gifts Steve’s dad loves. Or if his mom knits too. Or maybe she’s just not one of those moms who sews and knits and can just fix any item of clothing in the blink of an eye like Bucky’s mom does.

Bucky doesn’t ask. He knows he often overshares, and that not everyone is like him. So he doesn’t ask further and lets Steve have his privacy. He shares about a lot of himself already, every single little nugget of information he dares give Bucky is like a gift anyway. He keeps them all preciously in his pockets for later. He remembers how Steve loves his coffee, what his favorite colors are (plural yes, because he told Bucky it was unfair to pick only one). Bucky knows now that Steve grew his beard on a dare and ended up keeping it anyway because he loves it too much now. Or how he met Tony at college and how they clashed at first, so very different, but in the end, they made it work, and they get along better now, with their differences.

One morning, Bucky almost fell from his seat, when Steve finally confirms to him that he's bisexual. It’s not a grand reveal per se, but it feels like one to Bucky. Like, Bucky isn’t one to pry or ask around about one’s preferences because it’s none of his business. He hoped that Steve swung this way, with the way he sometimes looks at Bucky or with the comments he makes. But Bucky never saw him with anyone, male or female, Steve never even mentioned a previous partner.

It’s right after Bucky complained about how he heard his neighbor Darcy going at it all night, and how he’s not sure if he could ever look her in the face again from the stuff he heard. Steve laughs softly and says casually, “My roommate once walked in on me in college. I was with this boy I always ended up with whenever I got a bit drunk. He was such an asshole but… you know. Good in bed. And Thor, my roommate, he just walked in, even if I had put a sock on the handle.” Steve shakes his head, laughing softly, clearly lost in the memory of that day.

Meanwhile, around Bucky, there’s a horde of little naked angels singing and playing a harp.

“I was mortified, for weeks, but Thor he kept telling me, “No worries, Steven, I’m just glad you’re getting some, sex is the most natural thing,’" Steve adds, changing his voice for something a bit deeper than his own, laced with a foreign accent.

“I never brought anyone else home after that.”

Bucky smiles at him and tries not to think too much about Steve in bed with other people but it’s very hard not to. He changes the topic and they resume their way to work. Later that morning, Steve stops by his office, bringing him a steaming cup of coffee. Bucky might jump a little at the sight of him, because he was a bit lost in fantasy, daydreaming about Steve and him in between the sheets and wondering if Steve would make him scream loud enough to have Darcy heard them, as payback. His face is bright red as he says thank you to Steve and tries to hide his blush behind his mug.

But as December goes on, Bucky also notices that Steve grows sadder and grumpier. He tries his best to not show it to Bucky on their daily commute but he notices. They're dark bags under Steve’s eyes, his shirts are often wrinkled and his hair a bit more messy than usual. A few times, Bucky gets in the lunchroom as Steve gets out, throwing away half of his uneaten lunch, and he greets Bucky with a smile, but it never reaches his eyes.

Bucky never feels like Steve is avoiding him, or that his grumpy moods are Bucky’s fault, but he can’t help but feel a bit of guilt about it anyway. They exchanged phone numbers, quite early in their now daily commute together, and on one morning mid-December, Bucky wakes up to a text from Steve and he feels his heart flutter in his chest.

_Good morning, I’ll stay home today, I'm not feeling well. Don’t wait for me. I’ll see you tomorrow x_

Bucky frowns at the message, but the little kiss is enough to send warmth all over him.

He’s busy enough that day and barely has time to think about Steve’s absence. Maybe he just caught a cold, the weather is going up and down lately, very chilly days followed by warm sunny ones and it’s enough to have a bit of a runny nose. He misses him that night, though, when the subway is crowded and a weird looking man keeps staring at him from across the aisle.

The next day Steve is there, waiting for him, wrapped in a beautiful navy blue peacoat, going all the way down to his knees and hugging his frame so beautifully. There’s a cream-colored scarf around his neck and his nose is a bit pink because of the cold. He looks sad again, and Bucky wants to run the small distance between them and just hug him tight against him.

He is quiet but stays close to Bucky anyway, listens and smiles and laughs even a little bit at Bucky’s effort to cheer him up. That morning, it’s Bucky who brings him a cup of coffee on their morning break and he makes a detour to Tony’s floor beforehand. He heard about a meeting again and how there are leftovers from one of the best bakeries around (thanks Sam for the info) he picks a chocolate croissant and leaves it with the coffee to Steve. He isn’t in his office space but the door is wide open. He steals a post-it and writes EAT ME! on it before making his way back to his floor.

He gets a message from Steve on StarkChat quickly enough,

_Thanks, Buck, Carol saw you sneak around our floor, you need to work on that, you’d be a terrible spy._

It put a smile on Bucky’s face for the rest of the day.

The next week, Bucky gets to work on the 22nd with Steve’s gift safely wrapped in his messenger bag and it burns a hole in it all the way through their subway ride. Bucky feels incredibly nervous about it. With Becca’s help, he found the most perfect gift and he really hopes it’s going to make Steve happy. They usually make the Secret Santa grand reveal at lunchtime and then have the rest afternoon free, they can eat and have a little drink all together before the holiday break.

Bucky tries his best to work but all he can think about is the gift exchange. Maybe it’s too much? They are only friends after all… Yes, they got friendlier this month, they got closer than Bucky could ever hope for but… Maybe he’s seeing signals that aren’t there? He knows that he catches Steve looking at his mouth sometimes, or that there’s a blush lighting up his pretty face whenever Bucky compliments or touches him. But maybe it’s just Steve?

In a moment of panic, he walks to Sam’s office and closes the door behind him

“Sam I’m freaking out.”

He then explains to him what he got to Steve, how the idea came to him, and how he is scared it might be too much, too personal. Sam looks at him and it looks like he wants to cry. He gets up from his chair and hugs Bucky. What the hell?

“Barnes, this is the most wonderful gift you could have gotten him. Don’t be nervous, he's going to love it!”

“Why did you just hug me???”

Sam laughs, bright and loud, “Because I think you might be just what Steve needs right now, man.”

Bucky leaves Sam’s office even more freaked out than he was before. _Oh my god_. He can’t handle so much pressure, it’s like Sam told him all of Steve’s happiness is on his shoulders, he is going to pass out. When he looks at the time on his computer, he sees that it is almost noon so he makes his way to the 22nd-second floor where the festivities are held. He is holding Steve’s gift to his chest and trying not to show how nervous he is. He put it on the pile of gifts in the middle of the table, the little name tag with _Steve_ sitting there in his own handwriting taunting him.

* * *

_**Steve** _

The first couple of weeks in December pass in a blur. Steve thinks he’s holding up well, distracting himself with work and time in the gym. It helps that he’s able to spend more and more time with Bucky. He learns more about Bucky’s sisters, how he got into engineering, all about the hopeless string of boyfriends Bucky had in college, and ends up sharing more about himself than he does with most people. Even though Steve doesn’t think he has a chance there, seeing Bucky is always the highlight of Steve’s day because Bucky is just a joy to be around—albeit one that brings a blast of Christmas cheer with him whenever they cross paths. But Steve has to admit the endless parade of Christmas sweaters aren’t as grating as Steve had expected them to be.

With the advent of Christmas marching on at a relentless pace, however, Steve realizes he’s running out of time to make other plans. Sharon’s a no go, and there’s no one else at work he feels close enough to ask for an invite. Tony probably _would_ let Steve crash his plans, but if Bucky is too festive, Steve wants no part of whatever Christmas-masquerade-ball-spectacular-spectacle Tony is likely to be throwing. He would honestly prefer to spend the day alone. Which is looking like an increasingly likely option. Thor’s going back home for the holidays and although Steve knows he’d be welcome, he doesn’t have enough annual leave spare to make a trip to Norway just to escape the crushing loneliness of his apartment. His other college friends have all either just had a kid, or just got married, or are spending the day with inlaws, or skiing. Steve’s even asked around at the local soup kitchens, but it turned out volunteering to help wasn’t as easy as the romcoms made it look.

You couldn’t just turn up to help on Christmas Day, and unfortunately, Steve didn’t have the time free to volunteer many useful hours (he also doesn’t think he’d make a very good cook, but apparently that was neither here nor there). He’d ended up setting up monthly donations to the places he’d offered to help at it, but it still meant he had no plans. It made him realize how damn lucky he’d been to have met Sam when he did, and how gracious Sam’s family had been to welcome him into their home every year. This year it would be back to burying his head under the covers, making sure he was drunk by noon, and loudly watching the most anti-Christmas films he could find, whilst trying to convince himself it was just any other day of the year. If he was lucky, he might do some baking to give to his neighbors on Boxing Day, but most likely he’d end up eating Chinese take-out in front of Netflix in his pajamas feeling very sorry for himself.

Which was pretty much his exact plan for the 17th of December too. The day catches up with Steve sooner than he expected and on the morning of he can’t even bring himself to get out of bed. He shoots off a quick text to let Bucky know not to wait for him on their usual street corner and dutifully rings into work before he clamps a pillow over his face and tries to fall back asleep without success.

It’s awful. He hates how much his grief affects him after all this time, and he knows his mom would be disappointed with him, hiding under the covers unable to face the world. He’s disappointed with himself. Plenty of people lose parents, he isn’t unique in his suffering, everyone else manages to pick themselves up and struggle on. Whilst Steve can just about manage every other day, it always hits him hardest on the anniversary of the worst day of his life.

When the cocoon of his sheets gets too oppressive, Steve forces himself to go for a run. It’s chilly out, in the low forties, the sky is clear and cold for it. He bundles himself in a thicker pair of running leggings, a windbreaker, and a snood that wraps around his jaw and covers his nose. His feet pound the pavement as he runs his usual route around Prospect Park and his breath catches in the scarf, and before he’s even halfway to the lake, it ends up pooled around his neck. His breath billows before him and the cold catches in his lungs with an ache that reminds him of his asthma.

He skirts around the ice rink and keeps his head down when he passes Christmas shoppers, and definitely _doesn’t_ stop for lunch in any of the coffeeshops blaring Christmas music. He does stop for a breather by the lake, in one of his mom’s favorite spots. He takes a minute to stretch out and prevent his legs from cramping before he snags a seat on an empty bench and sits to watch the ducks paddle by without a care in the world. The trees have long lost their leaves, leaving only spiky bare branches spread out like clawed fingers. Everything looks grey and miserable, but there’s a beauty to it; if you look hard enough. Steve forces himself to look. He can almost hear his mom’s voice in his ear telling him to look at the clouds reflected in the lake, to see how still it is; like a second sky you could step through into another world.

He misses her. Like a toothache that won’t go away. Grief isn’t a once and done thing, Steve has learned. He mourns for her in little ways almost every day, not just for the memories he has but he grieves for all the memories they won’t get to make. His mom isn’t ever going to meet the person Steve will fall in love with, whoever that might be. They won’t ever have another Christmas, another birthday, another simple afternoon in the park watching the ducks and clouds.

It’s only when Steve starts to lose the feeling in his fingers that he peels himself off the bench and starts the long slog home. His muscles are far too cold to run, so he walks, cutting a miserable figure amongst the swathes of Christmas shoppers and kids spilling out of school. He pulls his snood up over his chin and worries it between with teeth, wishing he’d worn a hat or something he could pull low over his eyes as his mood only grows worse and he feels tear prick at the corners of his eyes.

He staggers into the shower as soon as he reaches his apartment and he may or may not let himself cry as the water cascades over his face. After he's dried off, he makes himself some soup and grilled cheese and forces it down without noticing any particular flavor before he crawls back into bed and blots out the world. Today was always going to be a write-off, it was pointless pretending otherwise.

❄️⛄❄️

He makes an effort the following morning, styling his hair, dressing a little smarter than usual in an effort to distract the fact that he’d spent all of yesterday crying. It clearly doesn’t work because Bucky looks at him like he’s an abandoned kitten when they greet each other outside the station and then launches immediately into carefree conversation topics evidently designed to cheer Steve up. He doesn’t ask why Steve was off, doesn’t ask why Steve needs his spirits lifted and Steve might love him a little bit for that. When a chocolate croissant appears on his desk later that morning with a handwritten note in Bucky’s even handwriting, it makes Steve’s heart soar.

He nearly asks Bucky out there and then—going out of his way to improve Steve’s day like that has to mean _something_ right? Steve deliberates, he types three different messages out in the little StarkChat box in the corner of his screen, staring at Bucky’s smiling headshot that accompanies the chatbox, before he chickens out and deletes the whole thing. Bucky’s just being considerate, Steve decides. It doesn’t mean anything. If Sam or someone looked as miserable as Steve had that morning, Steve is pretty sure Bucky would have done the same for them. Right?

_Thanks, Buck, Carol saw you sneak around our floor, you need to work on that, you’d be a terrible spy._

He has to stop himself from adding a kiss to the end of the message, realizing with crushing dismay that he’d done exactly that on the message he’d sent yesterday. He blushes horribly, feeling his cheeks burn for a long minute before rationalizing that obviously, Bucky didn’t think it was weird. Or if he did, he graciously didn’t mention it.

He’s still blushing when Sam breezes in not long afterwards with a rather smug smile on his face.

“Lucky.” He nods at the flaky crumbs of croissant left behind on the plate. “Weren’t many of those left.”

“I can see why. They’re delicious.” Steve isn’t embarrassed that he also picks up the flakes with the pad of his finger and polishes them off too. “What do you need?”

“Who says I need something?”

Steve narrows his eyes. Sam never just stops by without a reason, he’s too busy.

“Okay, alright. I need you to come shopping with me tomorrow.”

“No,” Steve says automatically.

“You have to, please? It’s a two-man job.”

“Shopping is never a two-man job.”

“You haven’t seen the list my sister sent me.” Sam protests. “It’ll be a couple of hours at most, I bet you haven’t done your shopping yet either.”

“I have.” He’d ordered most of it online, for the precise reason of _avoiding_ the shops.

Sam rolls his eyes. “There must be something you haven’t found yet. I promise I’ll keep it quick, and you can leave at any time if it gets too much, I just need an extra pair of hands.”

Steve stares up at Sam. It was true, Steve still hadn’t found anything for Natasha. He had no idea where to even start looking and he had a feeling window shopping might be the only way he's ever going to find something. But Christmas shopping on the weekend before Christmas sounds like his own personal hell.

“I know how much you hate it, you know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” Sam pleads and Steve caves.

“You’ll owe me.”

“Big time,” Sam promises. “Thank you.” He stoops to give Steve a squeeze of a hug before fleeing from the office before Steve can change his mind. “I’ll pay you back in croissants!” He throws over his shoulder as he leaves. Steve shakes his head and then has to pinch the bridge of his nose and wonder what the hell he’s let himself agree to.

Fortunately, he has proofs to approve or edit all afternoon and manages not to dwell on the terrifying prospect too deeply. But it means he’s so absorbed in his work that he ends up staying later than planned and ends up missing Bucky on the commute home that evening. It’s probably a good thing, Steve thinks as he clutches the handrail on the subway ride home. He’s already so rattled that he’d probably end up blurting out that he has a crush on Bucky like some lovesick teenager.

There’s been a few lingering moments over the last couple of weeks as they part ways on that street corner. Steve must look like an idiot struggling to say goodbye every time whilst he grapples internally with asking Bucky for drinks, for dinner, or a proper lunch date the following day. But he knows that in his fragile emotional state, he wouldn’t be able to handle a rejection. Bucky’s one of the only bright things in Steve’s life at the moment, if he messes that up right before Christmas, Steve doesn’t know how he’ll cope.

❄️⛄❄️

Sam knocks for him bright and earlier the following morning, obviously operating under the (correct) assumption that Steve wouldn’t join him unless he was physically dragged to the shops. It’s everything Steve feared and worse. With everyone so busyily preparing for the wedding it appears that Sam's be left to do the christmas shopping for his entire extended family, and it definitely takes more than a couple of hours. He refuses outright to go into some of the toy stores Sam has to visit to stockpile toys for his nieces and cousins' children. But standing outside laden with cumbersome shopping bags, in a crush of frantic shoppers isn’t any better. Steve understands now how Bucky nearly lost an arm in Macy’s, this is madness.

The only positive is that he finally finds something that might be suitable for Natasha; a set of ceramic kitchen knives in matte black with a stand that’s designed to look like it's carefully balanced on knife point. It’s just a tad over budget, but it’s the first thing he’s seen that strikes him as being even remotely worthy of Natasha’s obscure tastes and he can’t face the idea of hunting for something else.

_That looks amazing!_

Sharon texts back approval before Steve fights his way to the register to buy it.

_Almost too good...dammit Rogers. Now I need to up my game._

Steve sends back the smiling devil emoji in return and fights his way through the till to pay when something else spots his eye. Technically he isn’t _meant_ to buy presents for anyone else in the office, but it’s too cute to pass up so he grabs it anyway. Bucky’s bound to love it. Steve will just have to find a way of sneaking the gift to Bucky outside of the office.

It takes Sam all afternoon to finish buying everything in the list he'd been given, long past the limits of Steve's tolerance but he perseveres through gritted teeth, only because Sam's done so much for him over the years. The mountains of pizza and beer, and an evening of mindless action films afterwards, almost makes up for it. Almost.

"You're a Saint, Steve, you really are." Sam sighs as he cracks open a beer and sinks into the sofa. "Sorry, it took all day. Did you at least get what you needed?"

"Yeah, I did. I have no idea if she'll like it."

"She, huh?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "Nat, for the office Secret Santa."

"Damn, I thought you were going to tell me you had a hot date for Christmas and I could stop feeling guilty for abandoning you this year."

"Yeah, no chance," Steve snorts and takes a swig of beer.

Sam shakes his head. "How you're still single is one of life's great mysteries."

Steve can't agree. He's plenty messed up, it's no surprise he's never gone past a first date in the last however many years, and even those are sporadic enough.

"There's really no one?"

Steve's mind instantly goes to Bucky and he feels himself blush, powerless to stop it. Sam arches an eyebrow expectantly.

"No one. Nothing real anyway, I'm pretty sure he isn't interested in me that way." Steve mutters into his beer bottle.

"You never know. It could be a Christmas miracle." Sam's joking, Steve knows, but still feels an icy grip of despair clench around his heart.

"There's nothing miraculous about Christmas."

Sam looks stricken for a moment before he powers on to lighten the mood. "I know a couple billion Christians who might disagree with you there," he laughs.

"Oh really? You know them all?" Steve laughs back. "Anyway, wasn't Jesus born in March? Celebrating Christmas in December is a marketing ploy, nothing more."

"Yeah, but everyone needs a bit of light in the depths of winter, even you." Sam says softly in a way that makes Steve feel like he's really saying _'especially_ you'.

"I know." Steve does know, he wishes Christmas wasn't wrapped up with the awful memories of his mother's last painful weeks alive. He wishes he had someone to share the season with without relying on friends to make space for him in the family gatherings. He wishes for a lot of things. But life isn't a Christmas movie, he doesn't expect any of his wishes to come true.

He can only hope Natasha likes the knives he bought her, and that whoever got him for the office Secret Santa swap didn’t get him anything overtly festive.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Bucky** _

Bucky sits at the end of the big conference table, his knees bouncing nervously as he sees his colleagues piling up excitedly in the room. The little mountain of gifts gets bigger and bigger with each passing minute and Bucky’s heart might burst out of his chest when Steve finally walks in. He puts his beautifully wrapped gift carefully on the table, a wide but thin box, and Bucky can’t help but wonder what’s in it. Who he picked. Steve walks up to him, stands behind his chair, and squeezes at Bucky’s tense shoulders, “You okay, Buck? You’re quite pale…”

Bucky looks up at him, at his dark green turtleneck that is a bit too tight around his glorious shoulders and his thick glasses on his nose with a few finger smudges in them, at the way his pretty lips are turned down in concern… _God he’s beautiful._ “Of course. Just a little nervous.”

Steve lets go of his shoulders and smiles at him and Bucky misses the feeling of his strong hands already, he stands up, tries to clear his head as best as he can, and claps his hand a few times to get his colleagues’ attention.

“Good day everyone! It is now Christmas time at Stark Industries. It’s time for the gift exchange. Who wants to go first?”

His plan is to wait until the very end to give Steve’s gift, he wants them to have some sort of privacy when he does it. He secretly hopes everyone else would be too busy with their own gift unwrapping and drinking spiked hot chocolate to notice Bucky being all mushy mushy with Steve in the corner of the room.

Sam is the first one up grabbing a long, thin package and he walks to one of his HR pals with a bright knowing smile on his lips. Bucky smiles at the way she starts laughing instantly like she knows exactly what Sam got her. After that, it’s a blur of wrapping paper and laughter, some excited shrieks and even a few happy tears as his colleagues start giving their surprised gift left and right around him. He smiles at the scene unfolding before him because that’s Christmas. That’s one of his favorite things, the happiness that it brings to people, the feeling of making someone smile with a gift, big or small, just the thought of finding something and being like oh yes, this reminds me of that person.

He sees that Steve picked Natasha, and her bright red lips spread in a wide, excited smile and she tears through the paper and sees the beautiful set of knives. Bucky snorts because wow, yeah okay, that’s a Natasha thing alright. He laughs out loud when he sees the way it makes Sharon pout and how she slaps Steve’s arm and looks like she’s annoyed with him. It makes Steve shrug uncomfortably but Natasha quickly wraps an arm around Sharon’s waist, whispering a few words to her ear and it makes the blonde woman blush to the roots of her hair before she leans down to press a quick kiss to Natasha's bright red lips. Steve looks uncomfortable and glances around the room for an escape, blue eyes instantly falling on Bucky. Bucky then looks at the table where there’s no more gift anymore apart from his own for Steve. He swallows thickly and picks it up. When he raises his eyes again, Steve is right there in front of him, with a small but knowing smile directed right at Bucky.

“So you’re the one who picked me then?”

Bucky nods, turning the gift in his hands over and over again, avoiding Steve’s eyes as he does. Bucky doesn’t remember being that nervous over a gift before, but he also doesn’t remember feeling the way he feels for Steve for anyone else either. He looks around the room one last time, it’s loud now, the bottles of expensive liquor are out and almost everyone is holding a small glass of it. There are smiles all around the room, red cheeks, and bright eyes. Nobody is looking at them. Bucky grabs at Steve’s wrist, skin soft and warm under his clammy fingertips.

“I’d like some privacy, if it’s okay?”

Steve only nods and lets himself be pulled out of the conference room into the silent corridor, Bucky closes the door behind them and turns around, pressing the neatly wrapped gift into Steve's waiting hands.

He turns it around, shakes it, but it makes no noise, of course, it doesn’t. He carefully pulls at the wrapping paper, not tearing it up and it is such a Steve thing to do, it makes Bucky smile. He gives the paper back to Bucky and he notices how Steve’s hands are now a bit shaky, they started to tremble as soon as he saw the color of the book under his fingertips. He turns it around, front cover up, and reverently, he traces a finger to the title of it. It’s a used book, the corners a bit battered but somehow it’s still in good shape. The spine isn’t broken or anything. When his sister gave it to him, she pointed out how much this book has been taken care of.

See, Bucky remembered that conversation with Steve on the subway, about his favorite but long lost childhood book. Having a sister with a bookstore has its advantages, even more, when it’s a used bookstore and she has contacts all over the city, hell, even all over the country. It took her maybe a whole week to find it. And oh, Bucky never thought she would find it. Because it’s just not any fairy tale books, no, it’s _Steve’s_.

Bucky stops breathing as Steve finally opens up the first page and right there, in childish handwriting, in bright blue is a name :

_Steven Grant Rogers_

Bucky hears the way Steve’s breathing gets shakier, how his hands never really stop shaking as he tries going through the pages, discovering his old drawings added all over the pages of the fairy tale retellings. He drew some dragons, some princes, and princesses, some talking animals. They're mostly sketches but they're good, even for Steve’s young age at the time. Bucky went through it with such care when he first got it, thinking about a small blond boy, obsessed with stories, a pencil held tightly between his clumsy fingers…

“Bucky…” Steve finally says, and his voice sounds utterly broken, he is fully crying now, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks and sticking to his glasses as well. “Where? How… It’s my book?!”

“My sister,” Bucky says with a shrug, “I asked her if she could find one of those books but apparently she was good enough to find _your_ book.”

Steve grabs him around the shoulders and pulls him roughly against him. Bucky gets his arms around Steve’s waist and his heart cracks in the middle as Steve just sobs in his arm, wetting the shoulder of his bright blue Christmas sweater. Bucky starts to think he might have fucked up a little. He holds Steve close, hoping nobody is going to walk on them at that moment.

“Steve… I’m so sorry, is it too much? I… I just wanted to give you something special…” Bucky says, feeling the urge to cry himself under the raw emotions flooding out of Steve as he keeps crying in his arms. That when Steve finally takes a step back and tries to control himself a little but his body still shakes with sobs and tears are still running down his cheeks.

“N-no. Don’t apologize Bucky. T-this is the best gift I've had in a long, long time. T-thank you so much. I’m… I’ll be in my office okay? I-I think I need to go home now.”

And then he turns around, walking down the corridor to the elevators, and disappears quickly through the metal doors. Bucky feels a tightness in his throat, he can’t let him leave like that, he can’t leave him alone when he is the one who brought up such intense emotions within Steve.

He walks back into the cafeteria and spots Sam, quickly tells him what just happens and he starts panicking again, fear seeping through his veins. _Oh no I fucked up so bad._

“No. Go get him quick before he leaves, I think it’s more than time you learn what happened to him.”

* * *

_**Steve** _

Steve is too choked up to talk. He flees from Bucky, clutching the book to his chest and desperately tries to pull himself together. But it’s too much, it’s all too much. Does Bucky even know how much the book means to Steve? How on earth did he manage to find it?

He takes the stairs rather than the elevator and locks himself in the safety of his office, standing with his back pressed against the closed door as he glances down at the book in his hand. The faded blue cloth-bound cover he remembers so well with the slightly worn edges. He turns it over reverently in his hands and traces his fingers over the gold lettering of the title and the simple image of a knight holding his sword and shield aloft. He loved the book so much as a child. It had beautiful illustrations to accompany all the stories and Steve had traced them all. He’d even colored some of them in when he’d been younger, and added more illustrations of his own. They’re all still there, all of his little doodles in the margins and the large illustrations that fill the blank pages between the stories. He leafs through them all and struggles to breathe around the lump in his throat. His mom had never minded, never told him off, she’d simply give him better pencils to work with.

His mom had read to him from it over and over again when he was laid up in bed, always so sickly as a child. And later, when she got sick and the chemo left her bedridden, Steve had read the stories back to her. He lost the book somewhere in the chaos and upheaval of clearing out her apartment after she'd died, and the sadness that engulfed him when he realized it was missing left him distraught. It was almost like losing his mom all over again.

Holding the book in his hands now was like having a piece of her back, a connection Steve had thought was long lost. He hugs it to his chest and staggers away from the door to fall into his desk chair. Placing it carefully on his desk, Steve doubles over. He doesn’t even try to stop the tears that wrack through him, he wouldn’t be able to if he tried. Steve doesn’t know what to do with any of the emotions swirling through him like a whirlwind. He knows he embarrassed himself in front of Bucky, breaking down like that—crying in his arms, oh god, Steve groans. What on earth is Bucky going to think of him?

Steve doesn’t know, and he figures he doesn’t care to find out. He can’t stomach the thought of facing anyone right now. He’ll pack up and go home and hope he can get his turbulent emotions in check before tomorrow. Nothing will get done this afternoon anyway. The Secret Santa draw practically doubles as the office Christmas party. By now, Tony will have cracked open the good booze, and Christmas songs will be playing in the cafeteria. There’s a booze-up later, for the people who want to go out and party. Tony normally hires out a restaurant somewhere and everyone stays drinking until the early hours of the morning. Steve rarely goes. No one will miss him if he leaves now.

He sniffs and stands up, drying his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. He’s just packing his laptop away when there’s a timid knock on his office door. Steve coughs to clear his throat and blinks back his lingering tears before calling out, “Come in.” It sounds far more gravelly than he’d have liked and he’s pretty sure it’s obvious he’s been crying.

“Steve?” Bucky cracks open the door, looking on the verge of tears himself and Steve’s heart breaks anew.

“Hey, Buck. Sorry for the meltdown.”

“It’s okay.” Bucky steps into the office and pushes the door gently closed behind him. “Are _you_ okay?”

“Not really.” Steve doesn’t try to lie, it’s pretty obvious he’s the furthest thing from okay. “Thank you for the book. It’s really…” Steve searches for a word to sum up how much it means to him, but there isn’t one. “I can’t thank you enough, Bucky. Your sister too, I never thought I’d ever see it again.”

“Really means a lot to you, huh?” Bucky fidgets with the hem of the sleeve of his knitted jumper. It’s blue today, bringing out the silvery color of his eyes, dotted with little white snowflakes that fall around a large square gift-wrapped box in festive red and green. It’s a fitting choice, as always, and Steve wonders just how many Christmas jumpers Bucky must own; he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the same one twice.

“My mom gave it to me. I think it was hers when she was younger,” Steve explains. He stares at Bucky’s face, at his worried expression and the concern blazing from his eyes. Steve could leave the explanation there, but he decides Bucky deserves to know everything. “This book got us through a lot,” he goes on. “I was ill a lot as a kid, and then she, uh. Got cancer. In my last year of high-school. She spent a year of really intensive treatment which just wiped her out. On the days when she just couldn’t get out of bed, I’d sit and read with her.” Steve sniffs. It’s hard to talk about even now. “She got through it, somehow, and I thought she was in the clear. But it came back.”

“Oh, Steve,” Bucky says softly.

“There was nothing they could do the second time, she was diagnosed just after thanksgiving and then—” Steve glances up and away, trying desperately not to blubber all over Bucky again, but it’s a hopeless case. “She was gone before Christmas. Sorry.” His voice cracks and he finds himself crying again.

It takes a moment before he can press on. “I lost the book somehow when I cleared out the apartment, must have put it in the wrong box. I never—never,” he trails off, too choked up to talk anymore.

Bucky’s on him in an instant, pulling Steve up out of his chair and into a warm hug. Steve lets himself be wrapped into Bucky’s arms and doesn’t feel bad about crying this time, he just clings on tight and lets it all out.

“No _wonder_ you hate the holidays,” Bucky says in a hushed whisper. “I’m so sorry for shoving it all in your face.”

“It’s not your fault.” Steve manages a weak smile and pulls away, desperately wiping at his eyes. He takes his glasses off and rubs forcefully at his eyes. He must look like a wreck. “This year’s just been extra fraught.” He breaths deep shuddering breaths, trying to inhale through the after-shocks of his tears. "I normally spend the holidays with Sam, but he’s going away this year. And I just really don’t want to spend the holidays alone again.” Steve must sound pathetic. God, there goes any hope of Bucky ever reciprocating his crush. He risks a glance at Bucky and forces his mouth into a smile.

“No one should be alone at Christmas.” Bucky sounds horrified and Steve wants to laugh at his indignation. No one should be, but unfortunately, not everyone has anywhere else to go. Steve manages to bite that back before he voices it out loud. It really isn’t Bucky’s fault. “Look, my family always goes all out for Christmas. My mom always cooks far too much food, and they’ve got a big old house with plenty of space…”

Steve frowns, not sure where Bucky’s going with that. Good for him?

“You should come and spend the holidays with us.”

“Oh, no, Bucky—thank you—but I couldn’t, I can’t—”

“You _can_ ,” Bucky protests. “In fact, I insist.” He nods, looking more certain by the second, and then he smiles, the first genuine smile Steve has seen from him all morning. “How could I enjoy Christmas if I know you’re lonely and miserable somewhere?”

“I’ll probably still be miserable, Buck. Christmas isn’t an easy time for me.” Steve sniffs and manages a half-smile to let Bucky know he’s mostly teasing.

“But at least you won’t be alone.” Bucky presses on. “Please? For me? I’m going to be outnumbered by my sisters and all my nieces and nephews, it would be nice to have a friend there to stop me from going insane.”

Steve desperately wants to say yes. Spending Christmas with Bucky, even as ‘friends’, is a far better prospect than he could ever have imagined.

“You’re sure it would be okay? I wouldn’t want to impose—”

“Steve, my mom would _love_ to have you. I promise you wouldn’t be imposing. Please, say yes?” Bucky’s expression looks pleading and hopeful, and Steve has never been able to say no to that face.

“Alright. Yes. Thank you.”

Bucky’s face breaks into a delighted smile and Steve finds himself pulled back into another hug. Some of the tension that Steve’s been carrying around for weeks evaporates and Steve finds himself smiling too. Maybe Christmas won’t be terrible this year after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stop your tears! Steve will finally be happy!

_**Bucky** _

On December 24th, Bucky stands in his childhood bedroom, in a black shirt with shimmery but subtle golden flower patterns all over it, black dress pants, and a pair of Christmas slippers with the face of Rudolph on them. Red nose and everything. He rarely dresses so sharp but, this year there’s someone quite special joining them. And he is nervous as hell. Rudolph is staring up at him with judgmental eyes. He’s finishing getting ready, buttoning up the cuffs of his shirt and putting a bit of product into his hair so the curls are nice and shiny. He lets it all down, framing his face, tugging on a few wilder curls.

Steve should be here soon and his heart is beating a hard but steady rhythm in his chest. He isn’t ashamed of his family, how big and loud it is. Because he knows they will welcome him as one of their own as soon as he puts a foot in the house. He knows they will try their very best to make him feel good, to feed him well. His mom even got him a gift, it’s nothing big but still. He gave them a briefing earlier today, told them without going into details about Steve’s feelings towards Christmas and how it is not his favorite holiday. They were all understanding. Promising Bucky that they will definitely do their best to make Bucky’s boyfriend feel at ease.

He blushed and sputtered at that, telling them he wasn’t his boyfriend but it felt like a big fat lie even to his own ears. He damn wishes Steve was his boyfriend… Maybe it’s what he will wish for the next year under the fireworks next week….

He hears the door bell ring downstairs and soon enough his mother’s voice reaches him, “Bucky! Your friend Steve is here!”

From the top of the stairs, Bucky has a great view of the entryway and of Steve, being surrounded by his mom, his sisters, and their children, all gathering a nervous looking Steve in hugs, leaving lipstick kisses over his rosy cheeks. He looks overwhelmed by all the attention.

“Wow you’re handsome Mister Steve!” his niece Annabelle tells him and it makes Bucky chuckle as he makes his way down the carpeted stairs. Steve looks up at him instantly and his smile turns soft around the edge.

Bucky falls a little bit more in love with him in that moment… Yeah. No need denying that now, it’s pretty obvious isn’t it?

“Guys, let the man breathe!” Bucky tells them as he reaches the crowd of excited family members. His mother takes Steve’s coat from him while Ruth, his oldest sister, grabs his bags from him. She peeks in and looks back at Steve “You didn’t have to bring us anything, Steve!”

Steve blushes and shrugs and says “It’s so nice for you to invite me, it’s just a few bottles of wine and cupcakes I made…”

“Cupcakes?” Bucky says, trying to look inside the bag and it makes Steve laugh and relax a little.

He grabs at Steve’s arms pulling him away from the ladies looking at him with a bit too much enthusiasm. He does look nice, as he always does. He has a bright and crisp white shirt, under a soft but thin black cardigan. His legs (and ass, _oh my god!_ ) looking nice and strong in a pair of light grey pants. Buck is swooning.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the family,'' he says, pulling Steve towards the living room.

“Bucky I’ll need help in the kitchen if it’s okay?” his mother calls after him.

“Yeah Ma! I’ll be there, just showing Steve around.”

* * *

_**Steve** _

It’s safe to say that Steve is overwhelmed by it all. He doesn’t even have time to properly appreciate how great Bucky looks as he comes bouncing down the stairs and pulls Steve away from the chaos in the hallway. Bucky grabs Steve by the elbow and steers him away from who Steve can only assume are all of Bucky’s sisters, towards the living room, which isn’t exactly _less_ full of people. But these people are all sitting down at least. It’s a beautiful room, with tall ceilings, parquet floors, and a big bay window that’s full of the largest Christmas tree Steve has ever seen inside a house. The top of it brushes against the ceiling and it’s fit to bursting with an assortment of brightly colors lights and ornaments. Steve had spotted it from outside and thought it looked impressive, up-close, it’s like something from a dream or a film.

In fact, the whole _house_ seems to have stepped out of a dream. When the uber had dropped him off on Rugby Road outside a detached house on a leafy green street that twinkled with Christmas lights, Steve had felt utterly disorientated. Steve didn’t know big old victorian houses like this existed in Brooklyn. It was hard to believe he was in the same city as his apartment, let alone just the other side of Prospect Park. It looked like a picture postcard under the light smattering of snow that had fallen yesterday, and with lanterns lining the steps up to the wrap around porch, and a giant Christmas wreath hanging on the front door, Steve felt like he’d stepped into a Christmas movie.

“That was my mom, my older sisters, Ruth, Rachel, and my oldest niece Annabelle,” Bucky explains before he starts gesturing around the room. “And this my dad,” Bucky points Steve towards an older man half-asleep in an armchair by the fireplace. He has the exact same face shape as Bucky, down the dimple in his chin, and his silver hair curls the same way on top of his head. “Ruth’s husband Aaron,” a guy in his mid-forties glances up from where he's sitting on the floor, surrounded by parts of a Scalextric set and two young boys, who looked about four and six, both of whom had the same tousled mess of brown curls which evidently run in the Barnes family. “This is Steve.”

“Hey,” Aaron waves up at Steve and gives him a warm smile before turning his attention back to the car track. Steve smiles back, not sure who’s having more fun with the toy set, Aaron or the kids.

“And those are my nephews, Theo and Miles—Miles is Rachel’s kid. Her husband, Jack, is on nights at the moment, so you won’t meet him until tomorrow,” Bucky explains all in a rush, “and _this_ is little baby Louise,” Bucky leads Steve to a bassinet in the corner of the room where a baby is fast asleep and sucking on her thumb. “Ruth’s youngest. She’s only 8-months old, and she’s amazing. Sleeps through anything, which is a must in this house.” Bucky laughs. “Kitchen’s this way, I’ll introduce you to Becca.”

Bucky tugs on Steve’s arm again and drags him through the dining room, which is just as artfully decorated as the living room had been. There’s a long table in the middle that looks fit to seat a dozen, set with Christmas centerpieces, and another fireplace is draped with a garland of holly. Steve doesn’t have time to take any of it in before Bucky pulls him through into a light open kitchen where all of the women have congregated once more.

The cupcakes he brought for them are being piled onto a tiered cake stand by Annabelle under the supervision of someone who bears no resemblance to the rest of the Barnes family, whilst Bucky’s mom and one of his sisters—Steve will figure out who eventually, for now, all of the names and faces are blurred in his mind—are busy washing and chopping vegetables. The other two are doing the very important job of sampling the wine.

“Bucky, can you peel these for me?” Bucky’s mom hands Bucky a colander full of potatoes the moment he’s stepped through the door.

“In a minute, after Steve’s had the tour.” Bucky hands them off to someone else and Steve finds himself being dragged deeper into the kitchen to meet, “Becca.” Bucky presents Steve in front of the sister with the wine bottle. She looks younger than the rest, with her hair cut short in a curly bob and bold eyeliner framing the same steel blue eyes that Bucky has.

“Hi, Steve, nice to finally put a face to all the stories Bucky tells about you.”

“Becs!” Bucky gasps. When Steve glanced across at Bucky, his cheeks are turning pink.

“Nice to meet you too. You own the bookstore, right?”

“That’s me.” Becca beams.

“Thank you so much for helping Bucky track down that book—you have no idea how much that meant to me.”

“Oh, no problem,” Becca shrugs. “It was nothing.”

“Well, it wasn’t nothing to me. Thank you.” He hears something that sounds like a dreamy sigh behind him, but when he glances over his shoulder, everyone looks decidedly busy.

“And last, but not least, Zoe—Becca’s girlfriend.”

“Hey,” Zoe looks up from stacking the cakes and grins at Steve.

“And me!” Annabella pipes up.

“He already met you,” Bucky laughs.

“These cakes are delicious, Mister Steve,” Annabelle tells him, sticking her finger into the icing of the one she’s holding and scooping most of it away.

“Thanks,” Steve laughs.

“And you’re saving some of those cakes for everyone else, aren’t you sweetie?” Someone, who Steve can only assume in Annabelle’s mom, calls from the other end of the kitchen.

“Um.” Annabelle looks sheepishly at all of the adults around her. “Yeah?”

It’s utterly adorable.

* * *

_**Bucky** _

Ugh. Steve is adorable. Why does he have to be so good with everyone? Zoe is a lesbian and she’s looking at him with heart eyes, for christ’s sake! He can’t even be mad, because Bucky is pretty sure it’s the first time since the beginning of December that Steve’s smile is genuine and bright just the way he loves it. He’s back to 'normal'. He probably misses his mother like crazy, but he looks happy to be here and that’s all Bucky’s asking for.

He squeezes his arm, taking his attention away from Anabelle who’s busy retelling something about gift wrappings and bows and Bucky’s not even sure what she’s rambling about.

“Sorry Belle, but I gotta show Steve my room, we’re having a sleepover tonight.”

Anabelle smiles up at them with stars in her eyes, because at her age, sleepovers are the coolest thing ever. He doesn’t miss the pretty blush lighting up Steve’s face though, he looks flushed and happy like the little Santa Claus on his mom’s apron. “Go get your bag, I’ll show you upstairs,” Bucky says before making his way to the staircase, he’s followed quickly enough by Steve and he tries not to think too hard about his ass being right there, and Steve’s face being also, right there.

Since the family is all here tonight, the sleeping quarters are quite Busy. All of the rooms are full of his sisters and their children. So there really isn’t much space for Steve to sleep apart in Bucky’s room. All the spare mattresses have been given to the children for them to sleep on the floor so it leaves Bucky and Steve to share his childhood bed. Bucky definitely isn’t sweating right now, just thinking about Steve’s warm body right next to his. He’s pretty sure he won’t get much sleep tonight.

There are still movies and comic book posters all over Bucky’s walls. Steve teases him about it, but he smiles in the end, admitting he was also obsessed with a lot of those heroes when he was younger. He looks at Bucky’s big bookshelf and smiles at a few of the titles he sees there as well. “I think teenage me would have got along with teenage you just fine.”

Bucky gets closer and bumps his shoulder into Steve’s. “I think we’re getting along now just fine,” he says, his voice only shaking a little around the words.

“Boys! I need help in the kitchen now!” his mother’s voice comes from downstairs, “George are you sleeping?” she then says and it makes them both chuckles, eyes still locked and filled with emotions none of them are ready to name yet.

Steve drops his bag at the end of Bucky’s bed and then they make their way back downstairs again and straight to the kitchen. Winifred shoves bowls and knives and cutting boards into their hands and gives them salad duty. They stay close, shoulders and elbows bumping sometimes, and yet, none of them tries to shy away from the other.

“You look very nice tonight, by the way,” Steve tells him and Bucky almost chops the end of his fingers when the words, whispered so close, send goosebumps all over his skin. He hears a snort coming from behind them, someone definitely heard that too.

“Thanks,” Bucky manages to say after clearing his throat, “You do too.” From the corner of his eyes, he sees the way Steve’s face lights up as he smiles, happy lines blooming at the corner of his pretty blue eyes. Then Bucky hears some giggles and some kissy noises and when he looks over his shoulders he sees Zoe and Becca laughing and kissing each other's cheeks loudly. He rolls his eyes at them and goes back to his carrot chopping.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Bucky tells Steve but Steve only shakes his head fondly, “Don’t be, they're sweet.”

And at that, Bucky hears some sputters and when he looks back at Becca and Zoe this time, they are both blushing like school girls. Yup. That’s the Steve effect alright.

Once they are done with the salads, and the table is filled to the brim with different types of food. They barely have room to sit. Anabelle insists that she sits next to Steve, so he ends up between her and Bucky. Bucky can barely speak to him because wow, she monopolizes Steve quite a lot. It makes the whole family smile happily at them though. Bucky knows she usually is a quiet child until she’s very comfortable and trusting. The fact that she opened up to Steve quite easily is adorable to all of them.

Steve eats a lot. He tries everything and keeps complimenting everyone on the food. By dessert time Bucky’s pretty certain that he's lost his spot as the favorite son.

Once they are done eating, they all pile in the kitchen for the dishes and everyone helps. At some point, baby Louise starts crying and Steve looks at Ruth, asking if it’s okay for him to hold her. He takes Louise from Ruth’s arms with such care, like she’s the most precious little thing on earth, and to be honest, Bucky’s pretty sure she is. Steve rests her tiny body in the crook of his big arm and pokes her little nose with the tip of his finger. Louise stops crying and looks at Steve with big surprised eyes. She grabs at his finger, holding it and for a moment Bucky feels like everyone stopped breathing and is just staring at Steve.

Like he senses it, he looks up at them and smiles a little bashful, “I love babies,” he says looking back at Louise who’s now happily blowing raspberries at him. Bucky feels his heart grow three sizes bigger inside his chest. Bucky did everything in his power to make Steve’s Christmas a good one, a memorable one, but there’s no denying now, that Steve, in return, is brightening Bucky’s holidays as well.

* * *

_**Steve** _

Steve rocks Louise in his arms, cradling her head carefully in the crook of his elbow, and sways gently from side to side. She stops crying at once and blinks up at him with big blue eyes, which will probably stay exactly as bright and blue as they are now if Bucky’s and his sister’s eyes are anything to go by. She blinks up at Steve with an innocent wonderment that is so unique to babies and Steve pokes her gently on her nose. When she starts gurgling, blowing little bubbles with his mouth in something that sounds like an attempt at a laugh, Steve chances a glance up at Bucky who is smiling at them both with love in his eyes. He must be a wonderful uncle, Steve thinks. And maybe Steve lets himself pretend that some of that love is directed his way, and not at Bucky’s baby niece currently bundled in his arms.

Earlier that morning, Bucky had called Steve in a panic and explained that there’d been a miscalculation with the rooms and rather than being able to give Steve the guest bedroom, like he’d hoped, the only space would be to bunk in with Bucky. Steve had laughed and naively assured Bucky that wouldn’t be a problem. He’d forgotten that it would mean sleeping in Bucky’s _childhood_ bedroom, with his _childhood_ sized bed. When Bucky had shown him up to his room before dinner, the realisation had hit Steve like a ton of bricks. He’d hidden his nerves, or tried to, by teasing Bucky about the movie posters still plastered to his walls and the space-themed bedding, all the while his heart had been hammering. He wasn’t sure how he was going to cope spending all night squished up beside Bucky without making a fool of himself. The sensible thing to do would be to go home and spend the night in the full-size bed awaiting him there, but Bucky's family have their big Chritmas meal on Christmas Eve, and Steve was dreading waking alone Christmas morning; it was why he’d agreed to come and spend Christmas here in the first place. Besides, if he went home, Steve knew he’d never summon the courage to return and, for another thing, it would be rude to leave now.

“Sneaky,” Bucky tuts at him when he finally dries his hands, finished with washing up duty. “Offering to hold the baby to avoid helping.”

Steve’s face flushes pink. “Oh, no! I wasn’t,”

“I’m teasing you.” Bucky laughs and bumps their shoulders again like he had done upstairs. Steve will never admit how much that simple touch sets his heart aglow. “You are helping. She calmed right down after you took her.”

Steve can’t shrug whilst holding a baby, but he attempts to anyway. “Babies have always liked me.” His mom had been a midwife and sometimes when she’d been called out to make home visits and been unable to find anyone to look after Steve, she’d taken him with her. Those visits had normally ended up with Steve rocking the baby to sleep whilst his mom made tea and spent a few minutes giving the frantic new mother some tlc and a reassuring chat. Other times, Steve had played with the other, younger children in the house, and his mom had always hugged him tight on their way home and beamed with pride about what a good parent he’d make someday. It tugs on his heartstrings to remember that now, but it’s impossible to feel sad with such an adorable baby in his arms.

“I can take her back now if you like?” Ruth offers. Steve is reluctant to hand Louise over, but he doesn’t want to seem creepy or overstepping his welcome by keeping a hold of her, so he gently passes the baby back safely into her mother’s arms. It leaves him feeling bereft and he tugs the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands.

“Did you decide if you wanted to come to Mass this evening, Bucky? Or are you happy to stay and watch the kids?” Ruth asks as she bounces Louise in her arms.

“Oh.” Bucky flashes Steve a guilty smile. “I forgot to ask you. Everyone normally heads over to Holy Innocents for Midnight Mass. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to, though. I was probably going to skip this year anyway,”

Steve scrutinizes Bucky’s expression trying to gauge if he’s lying. The truth is Steve isn’t much of a religious person anymore. Not since his mom died. The last time he stepped foot in a church was for his mom’s funeral, and he isn’t keen on attending Mass, even if that is the whole point of the holiday. But, if Bucky really wants to go, Steve won’t stop him.

“Up to you.” He smiles. “I’d probably prefer to stay here, I don’t mind babysitting.”

“Then we’ll stay here.” Bucky looks relieved, clearly, he hadn’t been all that keen to attend. “We’ll make sure the munchkins stay in bed so that Santa visits, isn’t that right?” One of his nephews—Theo or Miles, Steve isn’t sure—runs into the kitchen and Bucky scoops him up to swing him around. The kid grins and whatever he’d been running into the kitchen for is forgotten as he asks Bucky to do it “again, again!”

“When can we open presents?” The other nephew is hot on his heels.

“Not ‘til the morning, honey, not until after Santa’s been.” It’s Rachel that replies, so Steve assumes the kid tugging at her sweater is Miles and the kid in Bucky’s arms must be Theo. He’s going to get the hang of all of their names eventually. He hopes he’s given the chance to. When he glances back at Bucky, who now has Theo sitting on his hip with his head resting on Bucky’s shoulder, Steve’s heart swells.

Bucky always looks handsome, and he always brightens up every room he’s in. But here surrounded by his family, dressed in a beautiful black shirt with a golden design that shimmers under the fluorescent kitchen lights, and his curls loose, falling about his face just so—he _glows_.

The longer this night lasts, the more Steve is starting to realize that he’s hopelessly in love with Bucky.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Bucky_ **

After the rest of the family has gone to Mass, it’s time for Steve and Bucky to put the kids to bed. Louise, already asleep, only has to be relocated into her parent’s room, easy peasy. Bucky’s heart somersaults his chest as he watches Steve lower her so softly and with all the care in the world into her crib. 

They face bigger problems with Theo, Miles, and Annabelle. 

First, the boys want to stay awake because they want to meet Santa. Of course, they do. There are a few tears, a few screams, a lot of pouting. Even a bit of running around the living room. In the end, they try their best to explain to the boys that one of Santa’s favorite thing is the element of surprise. That he would be happy yes, to meet them but it also would ruin the whole Christmas magic that Santa really likes. 

Bucky sees the way Steve spots Miles’ Spiderman pyjama pants, and then he says to the boys. “Santa’s like a superhero, he’s just like Spiderman. He loves making children happy, but he also prefers to keep his identity a secret, you know?”

Bucky doesn’t know if it’s Steve's pretty clever argument or if they just tired themselves by all the running around and yelling and crying from earlier, but they agree quite quickly after that to go to bed. They make Steve and Bucky promise though, that they will tell Santa that they really, really wanted to meet him and that they love him very much. 

Bucky has to say he is very impressed with Steve’s handling of the children and it may or may not give him the idea to kidnap Steve and adopt half a dozen children with him. 

Maybe they could only adopt cats and dogs, yeah, that might be a better idea.

They fall onto the couch after that, next to the tall Christmas tree in the corner of the room. The bottom of it is filled with gifts wrapped up in all kinds of colors and topped with bows and ribbons. Steve lets his head fall onto the back cushions and lets out a sigh filled with relief. Bucky turns around to look at him and he’s bathed by the glow of the twinkling lights. His eyes are closed and his lips are stretched in a tiny satisfied smile. 

“Buddy, you’re not supposed to fall asleep on me,” Bucky says, unable to keep his eyes away from Steve. “We finally have the whole house for us to party hard and finish all the spiked eggnog in the fridge, come on.”

Steve turns his head around and his smile gets bigger, he snorts and shakes his head. “We’re too old to party all night, Buck.”

“Says you! I’m plenty young, I don’t know what you’re implying here.”

Steve rests one of his hands on Bucky’s knees and pats it a few times. “Whatever you say.”

Then he gets up and goes to his things still hung up in the entryway. He gave Ruth the wine and food, but there was another bag that he put next to his shoes, and from it, he takes out a gift. It’s a wide but thin package and it’s wrapped with such care in a nice matte black paper with bright red stars. 

“For you,” he tells Bucky, handing the package to him. He looks a bit embarrassed, his cheeks tinted pink as he looks down at Bucky. “You gave me a wonderful Christmas this year, Bucky, thank you for that.”

He sits back next to Bucky, closer this time. Their knees bumping and their thighs touching. Bucky rips through the paper not to focus too much on the delicious warmth of Steve's strong body right next to him. He just wants to lean closer, to rest his head on Steve’s solid shoulder, and to breathe him in. 

Instead, he finally opens the box on his lap, and instantly he dissolves into a bright and loud fit of laughter. 

Inside of the package is the ugliest Christmas sweater Bucky has ever seen. He loves it. Bright green with red and white stripes and in the middle of it is a gingerbread man with a crazy face. There are white pompoms as the gingerbread man’s buttons, and there are also smaller pompoms sewn into the white stripes. It’s horrendous and Bucky loves it. Underneath it in the box, is a tiny sweater in the same colors and also covered in white pompoms.

“Oh my God, is this for Alpine?” he asks through hiccups of laughter.

Steve nods happily and he joins Bucky and suddenly they are both laughing, holding their tummies, with tears in their eyes. Bucky stands up and puts the sweater on top of his shirt and they start laughing all over again. Both of them are tired, it’s probably why they laugh so hard for so long, or maybe it’s just the magic of Christmas, maybe it’s the spiked eggnog. 

Maybe it’s just the way they are together.

When Bucky finally calms down, he is pressed against Steve’s body on the couch, his hand on Steve’s strong pec. He feels the way Steve is still shaken with a little burst of laughter. When he looks up, the way Steve is looking at him makes his breath stutter for a very different reason. There’s something tender in his eyes, something warm, soft. Almost loving. Steve lifts his hand to Bucky’s face and with soft, barely-there fingertips, he brushes at the corner of Bucky’s eyes where tears have gathered earlier when they were laughing.

But they are not laughing anymore. They are looking into each other's eyes intensely like they are looking for the answer to a question none of them dare to ask. But Steve, courageous, strong, perfect Steve, finally says, with his deep voice barely louder than a whisper, “Can I kiss you?”

Bucky doesn’t answer with words, he suddenly can’t remember any of them anyway. Instead, he closes the distance between them and he pulls Steve’s mouth to his own. He presses his lips to Steve’s warm, soft ones and he closes his eyes, enjoying the sweetness of them, the scratchiness of Steve’s beard, and the happy sighs and exhales as they finally meet. Steve’s hand reaches the nape of his head, fingers tangling with the long strands of his hair and he opens his lips, Steve’s tongue pushing against his own. He moans, without any shame and he pulls at Steve’s soft sweater because he needs him closer, he needs him everywhere. 

Steve follows easily and pushes Bucky onto the couch. He lays there and welcomes Steve’s comforting weight on top of him and they kiss, until they learn by heart the taste of each other’s mouth. They kiss until Bucky’s lips, cheeks, and chin are burning a little from Steve’s beard and until Steve’s glasses are crooked and fogged up. There’s no urgency, no rush into their kiss.

It’s Christmas and they are together at last and it’s nice, and it’s magic and that’s all Bucky ever wanted it to be.

* * *

_**Steve** _

Kissing Bucky is even better than Steve ever imagined it would be. He never let himself dare to hope anything might happen between him and Bucky this weekend. Not even when he’d seen the narrow single bed in Bucky’s childhood bedroom. But as the evening wore on and they worked as a seamless team to put the kids to bed, as they sat beside each other on the couch drinking more spiked eggnog than was wise, with their knees pressed against together and the Christmas lights setting the living room alight with a soft glow, it was impossible for Steve to deny what he felt for Bucky. And, with the way Bucky kept smiling at Steve, the way he kept giving him long, lingering looks, and his utter delight at the silly Christmas present Steve had given him, Steve was beginning to think Bucky might just feel the same. 

Deciding he could blame the eggnog if he’d been reading it all wrong, Steve dared to ask, “Can I kiss you?” and before he knew what was happening, Bucky's lips were on his. Steve’s hands act of their own accord, rising to curl around the nape of Bucky’s head, gathering up the soft strands of Bucky’s hair and tangling his fingers as he draws Bucky in closer and kisses back with tender warmth. 

Bucky pulls Steve close and Steve lets himself go easily, crowding Bucky against the couch cushions and bracketing him with his thighs. He knows the kids are sleeping upstairs, and Bucky’s family is due home any minute, so they can only kiss. But, oh, Steve would be so content to kiss Bucky forevermore. His lips are soft, his tongue slides warm and wet against Steve’s, and the breathless moans he emits as he chases what he wants and drinks Steve in are pure music to Steve’s ears. 

When Steve pulls back a little and props himself on his forearms above Bucky, he knows he must be grinning like a fool. Luckily, so is Bucky, beaming brighter than Steve has ever seen him before. Steve brushes a lock of hair back from Bucky’s forehead and kisses the dimples in his cheeks before swooping back to capture his mouth once more. 

They hear the clock on the mantelpiece chime, and Bucky’s smile brightens another degree. 

“Happy Christmas,” he whispers, arching up to chase it with a kiss.

Steve smiles down at him, feeling genuinely happy that it’s Christmas for the first time in years. 

“Happy Christmas,” he returns. It feels so wonderful to say it and mean it. His mom would love Bucky, of that Steve is certain, and he knows she’d be so relieved that Steve was finally starting to move on. That thought dislodges a nagging guilt Steve didn’t know he’d been harboring deep in his chest and when he kisses Bucky again his heart feels lit up like a Christmas tree. 

They lose time entwined together on the couch, trading languid kisses as the night hangs still and warm around them. Luckily, Bucky’s family aren’t quiet on their approach back to the house. They hear their loud chattering and tipsy sounding caroling from the sidewalk and have time to spring away from each other and smooth out their clothes before the front door swings open. They couldn’t do much about their giddy smiles though, nor the flushed pink color that rises to Steve’s cheeks at the sight of Bucky’s hair looking so adorable tousled. Thankfully, Bucky’s family are all too tipsy and distracted to notice. 

“Shh!” Bucky reprimands the family in a hushed whisper as they filter into the hall and stomp off their shoes and throw their coats on the rack by the door in a disarray. “You’ll wake the kids!”

“Sorry!” Rachel hisses back. 

“They were serving mulled wine after Mass,” Bucky’s mom explains in her best attempt at a whisper, which very much misses the mark. “I think Mrs Walsh was a little heavy-handed with the brandy.” She giggles and Steve can’t help but laugh as well, the sight of Bucky’s mom tipsy is charming and hilarious. “I’ll put on some cocoa, I think. Anyone else want some?”

“Were the kids ok for you?” Ruth asks. 

“Angels.” Bucky grins and Steve nods in agreement because there was only a slight disagreement about bedtime. He honestly thought trying to get kids to sleep on Christmas eve would be far more of a battle. At their age, Steve had concocted elaborate arguments to try and convince his mom to let him stay up late and see Santa. Which most often ended up with him falling asleep on the sofa and her having to carry him to bed past midnight. Sometimes he doesn’t know how she ever put up with him.

The house is suddenly very busy again, Ruth and Rachel go to check on the kids whilst Aaron and George start bringing all of the presents up from the basement to arrange under the Christmas tree. Bucky gets roped into helping, and Steve finds himself given the very important duty of eating the Christmas cookies that have been left out for Santa, drinking the brandy, and trying to make it look like a reindeer polished off the carrot. 

It’s not until Winifred and Becca start handing out mugs of hot cocoa that Steve gets a moment with Bucky again. They end up squashed beside each other on the couch, with Becca and Zoe squished in beside Bucky. It’s only meant to be a three-seater, and there isn’t really room for the four of them, but Steve can't say he minds how it presses Bucky’s leg flush against his from hip to thigh. Nor does he mind when Bucky takes Steve’s hand and entwines their fingers together, cradling it in his lap as he sips from his mug. 

Steve glances across, feeling light as air when Bucky smiles at him. 

Knowing looks are traded around the room, Steve feels them prickle at the skin on his neck, but no one comments. Steve has a feeling Bucky’s family knew about them before even he and Bucky did. When he catches Winnifred’s eye there is a very smug arch to her eyebrow and Steve can’t help but think that maybe the rooming arrangements weren’t _entirely_ an accident. 

Hushed conversations flow between them all until one by one they all start yawning into the mugs and slowly everyone begins dispersing up to bed. Bucky squeezes Steve’s hand when he feels himself overcome with a yawn.

“Ready to call it a night?” Bucky asks in a carefully whispered voice. 

Steve nods but stays sitting as Bucky extracts himself from the sofa cushions and just watches as Bucky arches out his back as he stands. He’s so beautiful it almost makes Steve feel dizzy. 

“G’night everyone. Merry Christmas.” Bucky waves to the room at large. 

“ _Sleep well,_ boys,” Becca smirks with a very knowing voice and wags her eyebrows at Bucky. Bucky gives her legs a good-natured swipe with his foot and she kicks him teasingly back. Steve watches it all and chuckles, which turns into another yawn. 

“C’mon,” Bucky extends a hand to haul Steve to his feet and he lets himself be pulled up. He’s surprised when Bucky doesn’t let go, keeping their hands clasped as he pulls him towards the stairs. It’s comforting and reassuring, and Steve finds himself smiling. 

“Good night,” Steve calls to everyone in his wake as he trails after Bucky out into the hall. There’s a big bunch of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling that Steve didn’t notice before, but he notices it now and tugs gently on Bucky’s hand to stop him from climbing the stairs.

Bucky turns back, looking confused for half a beat before he follows Steve’s gaze up to the ceiling. Then he’s leaning in to kiss Steve with a huff of laughter. 

“I should have tried mistletoe much sooner if I knew that’s all it would take,” Bucky laughs. 

“Oh yeah? How much sooner?” His heart flutters to hear that Bucky has liked him for a while. 

“The day I met you,” Bucky admits, looking adorably sheepish. Steve kisses the uncertainty right of Bucky’s face and squeezes his hand again. 

“It probably would have worked.”

Bucky bounces on the balls of his feet and crashes their lips together, slightly sloppy with his eagerness. 

“Well, then we’d better make up for lost time.” He laughs. “You’re sure you’re really okay sharing? I can always crash on the couch if you’d prefer.”

“No, I’m okay.” The prospect of sharing a bed is far less daunting now than it had been at the start of the evening. In fact, getting to cuddle close and kiss Bucky all night long is just about the best Christmas present Steve could have ever asked for. 

* * *

_**Bucky** _

Bucky can't stop smiling. They changed into their pyjamas and they are now at the bathroom sink brushing their teeth and Bucky can’t stop smiling. It sends a flock of butterflies in his stomach whenever their eyes meet in the mirror and he sees Steve’s bright smile too. It feels like they are teenagers who just shared their first kiss. Steve took his glasses off and he looks a bit younger, more boyish and soft, his hair a bit messy now with all their kissing from earlier. He has an old college t-shirt and a pair of bright blue sweatpants. Bucky can’t believe how good he looks in just everything. Just looking at him right now, he feels tingles in his fingertips with the need to reach out and touch. He wants to hug him, wants to cuddle him, he wants to be the big spoon, and little spoon and he doesn’t care what utensil he is really, as long as he can just hold that man in his arms. 

“Do you have a side of the bed you prefer?” Bucky asks him when they go back to his room. He pulls at the sheets and turns on his little bedside table. Steve, still at the door, turns off the ceiling light. They are bathed in the soft yellow glow of it and Steve almost looks golden with it.

“Bucky. There is no side to this bed,” he says, chuckling softly.

“Yeah, it’s gonna be a tight fit. I hope you like to cuddle then,” Bucky says sitting on the bed and looking up hopefully at Steve. Quickly he joins him, their knees bumping and their elbows knocking. With a few giggles they finally settle down, Steve turns around on his side and grabs at Bucky’s arm, wrapping it around his middle. Bucky’s face is pressed to the back of Steve’s neck and he feels the steady beat of his heart under his palm. He tries to keep his hips from himself, fully knowing he’ll probably wake up completely pressed up against Steve’s wonderful ass.

He prays to wake up without a morning wood, _please, not with the children so close._

“I love cuddling,” Steve says, answering his previous question. His voice already sounds sleepy and sluggish and they had quite a long day. Quite the eventful evening as well. Bucky smiles, feeling sleep invading him as well. _Best Christmas ever_ , Bucky thinks, and just like that, he sleeps.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas Eve!

**_Bucky_ **

They wake up the next morning, way too early, to the shrieks of children and laughter and a few loud whispers telling the kids “to not wake up Bucky and Steve!!” _Well, that’s a bit too late for that mom_ , Bucky thinks. He feels warm and content and like he had the best night of sleep of his life even if he is well aware that it was only a few hours. They moved in their sleep. Steve is now on his back, Bucky halfway on top of him, with his head on his strong chest and a leg propped on top of Steve’s. He wants to stay there all day. 

But he hears small footsteps making their way upstairs and they stop right in front of his door. He hears the door being opened carefully and then there’s a whisper; “Steeeeeeve.”

Bucky snorts when he recognizes Annabelle’s voice. He feels the way Steve stirs awake under him. He rubs a hand over his eyes, his other arm wrapped around Bucky's shoulders and holding him close. 

Annabelle tries again because clearly, they are not moving quickly enough for her taste. “Steeeeeeeeve. Buckyyyyyyyyy.” 

Bucky starts giggling at that, hiding his face further into Steve’s chest.

“What’s up, Belle?” Bucky asks her. Steve is blinking awake, yawning and sitting up, pulling Bucky up with him as well. Annabelle is at the feet of the bed, in her cute purple pyjamas that are a bit too big for her. Her long hair is a tangled mess but her eyes are bright with excitement. 

“It’s Christmas!!!” She yells at them now that she knows both of them are awake. “AND IT SNOWED!!!” 

And just like that she’s gone, running down the stairs and leaving them both sleepy and rumpled and still tangled up in each other.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky,” Steve tells him with a soft smile, eyes still swollen with sleep and there’s a bit of dried-up drool in his beard. There are little crusts in the corner of his eyes. And yet, if you were to ask Bucky who’s the most beautiful person on earth when they wake up? He would say Steve without hesitation.

“Your morning voice is doing things to me that are very much inappropriate in a house filled with children.”

Steve laughs at that and he leans down to press a kiss to Bucky’s cheekbone. He sighs happily as soon as his lips touch Bucky’s skin and it makes Bucky’s stomach swoop happily all over again.

“And you look beautiful,” Steve says, his voice low and tempting and _oh god, he has to stop._ “You need a comb, though,” he adds with a smile, and Bucky’s hand flies to his head and yeah, he feels his curls a bit wild and messy. 

“Shut up,” he says, with no heat in his voice but a lot of it on his cheeks.

They get up and pick at their clothes of the day. Steve’s are less formal than yesterday's. A softer, more casual outfit but Bucky knows he is going to take his breath away, no matter what. 

“Do you wanna shower first?” Bucky asks him. “I’ll go control the gremlins downstairs and help with the breakfast. My stuff is the deep blue bottle of soap. You can take as much as you want.”

Before leaving the room and making his way to the bathroom down the hall, Steve leans down and presses a kiss to Bucky’s forehead. “Thanks.” 

Bucky could really get used to all of those soft casual kisses. He loves every single one of them. He loves how easily they fell into hand-holding, and cuddles and kisses like that. He loves the feel of Steve’s hand against his own, loves the way Steve’s lips always stretch into a smile as soon as they press against his skin. It really is the best Christmas ever. 

He is teased relentlessly when he makes his way downstairs.

“Did you sleep well?” Zoe asks him, hiding behind her cup of coffee.

And then Becca is on him ruffling his hair and trying to see if there’s any kind of hickies or other marks on his neck and collarbones. 

“Becca! We slept. That’s all.”

“Boo! You’re no fun.”

Quickly enough the table fills with breakfast food, the same way it did with all the dinner food the previous night. Bucky eats a few slices of his mother’s french toast, topped with berries and maple syrup. There are pastries too and he eats a few of those as well. Once he is on his second cup of coffee, Steve enters the kitchen and is greeted warmly by everyone. Annabelle even jumps on him to hug him tight around the middle. “Steve! Are you excited for the presents?”

“I sure am, Annabelle.” 

When she lets him go, he sits next to Bucky and grabs at food for himself, taking his time to say thank you to Winifred again. He squeezes at Bucky’s thigh under the table and he is hit by a wave of his own scent, his soap, but mixed with Steve’s very own musk. It’s intoxicating suddenly. _Do I smell that good every day?_

“I’ll go take a shower real quick while you guys finish breakfast.” 

The children start whining at that “But the preseeeeeeents!!” 

“I’ll be back before you know it!” Bucky yells at them as he makes his way up the stairs. He jumps under the spray, and quickly scrubs himself, trying very hard not to think about how Steve was there just a few minutes before. Naked.

_No, Bucky. Don’t go there._

He gathers his hair in a messy bun on top of his head, washes his face, and then makes his way to his room, pulls on a pair of underwear, soft sweatpants, and then, he grabs the sweater Steve gave him the night before and puts it on. He smiles at himself in the mirror, remembering the way they laughed the night before. The look on Steve’s face when he asked the sexiest question ever. And then their kiss. He runs back down the stairs, impatient to go back to him, to sit close and hold his hands as they watch his family unwrap their presents. 

* * *

_**Steve** _

There’s even less space in Bucky’s narrow childhood bed than Steve was expecting there to be. He doesn’t know how he would have managed to survive a night of being awkwardly pressed close to one another and managed to keep his feelings for Bucky a secret, so it’s an infinite relief now that he doesn’t have to. As they climb into bed it’s immediately obvious that there’s no way they can both lie on their backs without one of them falling to the floor, so Steve rolls over onto his side. He guides Bucky’s arm across his chest and pulls him close, Bucky lets his head settle into the nape of Steve’s neck and Steve melts back into Bucky’s warm embrace. 

“I love cuddling,” Steve says softly, and cuddling close to Bucky feels like the most natural thing in the world.

Bucky gives a happy hum in return and nuzzles closer into Steve’s back. The rhythm of his breathing settles and Steve’s pretty certain that Bucky falls instantly to sleep. It takes a little longer for Steve to drift off. He listens to the old house settling and creaking. Pipes rattle and bang softly, the radiator clicks, and the wind whispers gently through the fittings of the wooden windows. It’s cozy and warm in Bucky’s bedroom though, tucked under a thick comforter patterned with little rockets and stars, that must have been Bucky’s bedding as a child. It’s utterly endearing, as are the glow in the dark stars still speckled across the ceiling and tacked down the side of the bookcase that stands across the room. 

He lays a hand on top of Bucky’s which is curled into the fabric of the t-shirt Steve’s sleeping in and settles his head into the pillow. He listens to Bucky’s steady breathing and feels Bucky’s heartbeat gently against his back, smiling as he closes his eyes and lets his own breathing settle to match. 

Sleep catches up with him quickly, and before Steve knows it he’s being woken up by Bucky’s niece peeking into Bucky’s bedroom.

“Steeeve,” she whispers loudly, it’s barely a whisper at all. Then, when he doesn’t answer, “Steeeve! Buckyyyyy!” 

Steve blinks his eyes open and drags a hand over his face, finding himself sprawled on his back, taking up most of the tiny bed. Bucky’s draped over the top of his chest, and Steve’s arm is wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders. It’s a reflex to pull him even closer, marveling that he can. He’s also immensely relieved that they both wore proper pyjamas to bed the night before. 

Bucky lets him shower first, and Steve has to bite back the offer to shower together, the house is full of children, it would hardly be appropriate. So he lets Bucky disappear downstairs and bundles up his clothes to head towards the bathroom down the hall. He has a moment of uncertainty, standing under the hot spray of the shower, wondering why he let himself impose on Bucky’s family, and almost convinces himself that no one really wants him there, but it passes by the time he’s toweling himself off and pulling on his soft jeans and a comfortable navy blue cable knit sweater. He spends a little longer fixing his hair than he normally might and neatly tidies up all of his belongings, making up Bucky’s bed, before he sucks in a deep breath and heads downstairs. 

The house is alive with all the usual chaos of Christmas morning. He hears Theo and Miles begging to be allowed to start opening their presents, the TV’s tuned to a Christmas playlist on Spotify, and the kitchen sounds like utter chaos. Steve isn’t sure he wants to enter, but the smells coming from it are delicious. He follows his nose, hoping he can grab some breakfast without getting in anyone’s way.

Annabelle pounces on him the moment he enters the door, tackling him around the middle for a hug. 

“Steve! Are you excited for the presents?” She asks, beaming up at him with her steel blue Barnes eyes. 

“I sure am, Annabelle.” He smiles down at her before glancing across to Bucky who’s sitting at the kitchen table in his pyjamas, nursing a mug of coffee, still looking thoroughly sleep mussed. His hair is pulled back into a flyaway bun and his eyes still look groggy with sleep, but his expression looks so fond when he smiles at Steve, and Steve thinks Bucky might just be the most beautiful person he’s ever met. 

“This all looks wonderful, Winifred,” Steve tells Bucky’s mom when Annabelle finally decides to let him go and Steve steps into the kitchen. “Thank you so much.”

“Oh, it’s no problem. Help yourself, coffee’s in the pot,” she tells him with a smile that crinkles up the corners of her eyes. 

Steve helps himself to a large steaming cup and then settles into a seat beside Bucky, squeezing Bucky’s thigh under the table as they share a smile. There’s a domestic intimacy to sharing breakfast together with Bucky’s family that fills Steve with a warm contentment he’s been missing for so long. It’s chaos, with conflicting conversations flying over their heads and the kids dancing around and chanting for their presents. Breakfast plates are being washed up as they’re finished by Becca and Zoe who sing and dance along to the Christmas tunes, meanwhile, Winifred keeps producing _more_ stacks of french toast and pastries warmed in the oven. But it’s exactly the kind of chaos Steve always wanted to be a part of and he does feel part of it. His moment of anxiety in the shower is well and truly a thing of the past. 

When Bucky disappears up to take a quick shower Steve takes over the washing-up duties. As he stands at the sink, elbows deep in warm soapy water, laughing with Bucky’s family, he’s overcome with gratitude to have been accepted into their fold so easily. 

“Thanks again for letting me crash your plans today,” Steve tells Winifred as he hands her a clean plate to be dried up.

“Oh hush,” she returns. “We’re glad to have you, Steve.” She takes the plate and dries it up with an efficient briskness. “Bucky told me about your mother, I was so sorry to hear that. It’s an awful thing to lose your parents so young.”

Steve falters and drops the plate he’s currently washing up, luckily it just lands back in the water with a slight splash and no harm done. 

“Thank you,” he manages. 

“I don’t know what’s between you and Bucky, if you’re just friends, or more,”

Steve feels his face heat up with a rising blush. 

“But, I want you to know you’re always welcome here.” She squeezes Steve’s arm with a motherly grip and smiles up at him. “You’ll never have to spend Christmas alone again,” she promises, and Steve knows it isn’t an empty promise. Whatever happens between him and Bucky, Steve feels certain that he’d still be welcome and there’s a wonderful reassurance in that.

“Thank you.”

“Now, go and get yourself in the living room, with everyone else. I can finish up here.”

Steve doesn’t protest. He dries off his hands and takes a moment to compose himself in the hall before he steps through to the living room and finds himself set upon by Theo who wants to share his guesses for what’s in all of the boxes under the tree. Steve is all too happy to let himself be dragged to the floor to ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ over all of Theo’s outrageous suggestions. 

“You better not be opening any of those yet,” Bucky laughs from behind Steve. 

“Just guessing,” Steve assures him, twisting his head around to smile up at Bucky. He’s wearing the ridiculous Christmas sweater Steve bought him and manages to almost make it look stylish with his hair pulled back into a purposefully messy bun. 

“This one's a race car!” Theo decides, shoving a present about the size of a shoebox into Steve’s stomach, almost winding him in the process.

“Could be!” Steve readily agrees, before stowing the box carefully back under the tree. 

“I think it’s a dinosaur,” Bucky counters, sitting cross-legged beside Steve. 

“No, _this_ is a dinosaur,” Theo points at a tall thin present that most likely contains a bottle of wine for one of the grown-ups. 

“A wino-saur, maybe,” Bucky smirks under his breath and Steve snorts a laugh. 

It’s easily the best Christmas morning he’s had for years, and when Bucky shuffles closer and lets his head rest on Steve’s shoulders, it only promises to get better. 

* * *

_**Bucky** _

Steve sits in the armchair in the corner of the room and Bucky takes place on the armrest to stay close to him. They watch and they laugh as the children rip through the wrapping papers and uncover a plethora of gifts. Steve’s smile never falters, Bucky makes sure of it. He looks at him from the corner of his eyes and Steve looks genuinely happy. He shows interest in the children’s gifts, helps Annabelle dress up her brand new doll, he even ends up playing legos with Theo.

Bucky’s mom slips a gift for Steve at some point, and he sees how emotional Steve gets as he unwraps it, how he keeps telling her she shouldn't have. 

“It’s nothing really. You’re our guest Steve, you deserve a gift.”

Steve laughs when he unwraps a knitted sweater with a reindeer on the front. It’s navy blue and Bucky silently thanks his mom, because that color suits Steve so well.

“I initially started it for Bucky, I just had to make it a bit wider in the shoulders,” she says with a knowing smile.

“Hey!” Bucky says in fake indignance. He knows nothing compares to the sight of Steve’s strong shoulders. 

“If it doesn’t fit, let me know,” she adds, ignoring Bucky. “I’ll make some adjustments.”

“Thank you, Winifred,” Steve tells her and he sends a coy look to Bucky. “I’ll give you some competition at the office next year.”

“Oh I’m hoping for it,” Bucky replies, ruffling Steve’s hair playfully. His heart soars at the thought of next year, at the fact that Steve thinks about them in the future. 

After that, they clean up all the wrapping papers and bows scattered around the living room floor like there was a Christmas explosion or something, and then they bundle up the kids in their winter clothes so they can go play in the snow. Bucky lends some mittens and a knitted hat to Steve and he steals a kiss as he pulls it down on Steve’s eyes and takes advantage of his full mouth being right there when Steve is momentarily blind. 

Steve smiles against his lips and leans in for a second taste and it makes Bucky’s lips tingle.

They build a snowman, or at least they try because the snow isn’t sticky enough for a proper one. They make angels all over the Barneses backyard and they stay outside all day, only stopping for a quick lunch around noon, they play until their cheeks and noses are red and cold and the children are starting to get fussy with the need of a nap and warm, dry clothes. 

Once all of the kids are put to bed, and after he took a quick shower and changed into warmer clothes, Bucky finds his mom and Steve in the kitchen. She is filling Tupperwares with leftovers from the day before and even if Steve keeps telling her that it’s too much and that he can’t accept so much food, his mom just keeps filling the containers anyway. Steve’s reusable bag that he came up with last night isn’t enough to contain all of the food his mom gave him and Bucky looks at them from the doorway with a soft smile. He knew that his family would do everything to make Steve feel at ease, and he knows that his mom just quickly adopted him and decided that he was one of theirs now. 

And she feeds her own. That’s her favorite thing to do. By giving Steve so much stuff, she’s just showing him how much she appreciates him already. 

“You can’t walk home like that, now,” she says with a knowing smile and oh Bucky knows that tone.

“James will drive you back! Take my car!” she adds looking at him from above Steve’s shoulders. She thinks she is so clever, playing matchmaker like that and sending him to Steve’s place to give them a bit of privacy after spending so much time surrounded by all of his family members.

Steve starts making his way around the house to say his goodbyes to everyone. He slips a piece of paper to Ruth and she looks so happy with it she pulls Steve into a hug. Bucky wonders what he gave her. He ends his tour by shaking hands with the men and Bucky feels like tearing up when he sees his dad pulling Steve into a short, manly hug too.

They dress up and then they get to Bucky’s mom’s car and fill the back seat with all of Steve’s bags filled with food, then they wave at the family gathered into the front window and they make their way down the snowy streets.

“That wasn’t too overwhelming for you?” Bucky asks, reaching out to squeeze at Steve’s thigh just because he can now. Steve grabs at his hand and squeezes it before intertwining their cold fingers together. 

“That was an amazing Christmas Bucky, I can’t thank you enough.”

“Well, just knowing that we can make out now is enough of a thank you if you ask me,” he says and luckily enough the light in front of them turns red so he can steal a kiss to prove his point. Steve cups his cheeks at that, fingertips teasing behind his ear and his beard tickling Bucky’s lips in the best way. He is addicted to those kisses already.

“I have enough food for the whole week. Maybe more,” Steve tells him when the light turns green and Bucky puts on his blinker to turn left on the next street. 

“My mom loved you. That’s her way to show it.”

Steve doesn’t say a word at that, only squeezes harder at Bucky’s fingers. Even from the corner of his eye, Bucky sees the emotion taking over Steve’s face. He takes their intertwined hands and brings them to his mouth, kissing softly at Steve’s knuckles.

“What did you give to Ruth?”

“Oh… I just did a quick sketch of Annabelle whilst she was napping, I didn’t wanna leave without giving her at least a little something.”

Bucky’s heart stutters in his chest again. It’s like Steve never stops surprising him. There’s always another layer of goodness to discover. Bucky feels a bit choked up with all the love he feels for Steve already. 

“She will love it, I’m sure.”

They spend the rest of the drive in silence, just holding hands and humming to the Christmas songs on the radio. The silence is comfortable between them. It feels right and Bucky is reminded of something his dad once told him, that with the right person, silence is never boring. With the right person, words aren’t needed to speak the truth of your feelings. That’s how he feels with Steve. And he thinks Steve feels the same, as he is looking outside, at New York covered in a thick layer of snow with a small smile on his lips and his eyes bright. 

When they make it to Steve’s street, they are lucky enough to get a parking spot not too far from it and Bucky gets out of the car with his hands in the air yelling “ _IT’S A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE_!” and it makes Steve laugh so hard he almost slips on the icy sidewalks. 

When they reach Steve’s door with their arms filled with food and their blood singing with anticipation, Steve whispers, “Do you wanna come in?” They were alone in the car and yet, it wasn’t like _that_. Behind this door, is Steve’s apartment. Behind this door, there’s Steve’s _bed_. Oh, God.

Bucky licks at his lips and only nods. As soon as the door closes behind them, they are on each other, kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes in a way they couldn’t do back at Bucky’s house. He pushes Steve against the front door and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, pushing himself on his toes to get the few inches separating them. Their scarves and gloves fall on the ground and their hands, still a bit cold from outside make their way under warm sweaters and they smile against each other’s lips. They giggle, almost drunk on each other. 

“We have to put the food in the fridge Bucky,” Steve says against his lips, but he’s not moving away from Bucky, he’s not stopping his kisses and his wandering hands and Bucky is dizzy with it. 

* * *

_**Steve** _

After presents and a whirlwind of wrapping paper, cardboard, and those little twisty things that come with children’s toys, Steve and Bucky wrap up warm and chaperone the children outside to play in the snow. Steve can’t remember the last time he’d made a snow angel or made a snow heap with snow that refused to roll up into a snowball. He and Bucky laugh until their stomachs ache, stealing chaste kisses on the tips of frozen noses in between pelting each other with handfuls of snow and letting themselves be tackled to the ground by Bucky’s niece and nephews. 

Just after noon, they’re called inside to wolf down another buffet-style spread of lunch, before Steve is roped into pulling Annabelle up and down the sidewalk out front on a toboggan, followed by a snowball rematch in the backyard that ends up with Becca leading the charge to stuff handfuls of icy snow down the back of Bucky’s collar. 

By the time it starts to grow dark, everyone is utterly exhausted and starting to feel the bite of the cold through their mittens and coats, and they begin to troop back inside. Steve lingers, reluctant to call it a day because he knew once he steps inside he’ll quickly run out of reasons to stick around and he isn’t ready for the day to be over just yet. He grabs Bucky’s hand before he can climb up the back porch and steals a lingering kiss as the breeze picks up and snowflakes drift off the roof around them and the sky turns purple with the gathering dusk. 

Only when Bucky begins to shiver, starting to freeze from the amount of snow that ended up inside his coat, does Steve reluctantly pull back. But even then, Bucky darts in for one more quick kiss before he rushes inside and straight upstairs to get changed. 

“The winter evenings always catch me off guard,” Winnifred mutters as Steve stomps off the snow from his shoes by the backdoor and enters the kitchen in search of a hot drink. “Not even four-thirty and it’s already getting dark.”

“Ah, but there’ll be a grand stretch in the evening soon, as my mom always used to say.” Steve smiles, a little wistfully as he remembers. As soon as they were past the winter solstice, his mom would start celebrating every extra second of sunlight. 

Winnifred gives him a curious smile.

“It’s an Irish expression, apparently.” Steve shrugs.

“I know someone who used to say that, always stuck with me.” Winnifred looks at Steve with renewed interest. “Rogers, wasn’t it?” she asks. 

“Yes.”

“Your mother wasn’t, by any chance, _Sarah_ Rogers?”

Steve stills. His hands freeze from unwinding his scarf. “Yes?”

“She wasn’t a midwife at the New York-Presbyterian?” 

Goosebumps prick all over Steve’s arms, in spite of the warmth of the kitchen. “How did you—?”

“Oh, Stevie!” Winnifred pulls him into a great hug that contains a surprising amount of force. “You don’t remember me, do you? Course you wouldn’t, you were still in diapers yourself.”

Steve is utterly confused, but that doesn’t stop him from blushing scarlet. 

“Your mom was my midwife with Becca, she came and did all my home visits, often brought you with her too. You and Jamie would chase each other around the front room whilst we chatted over tea. None of my other midwives had ever done that—but your mother always knew that sometimes what new moms needed the most was just a grown-up conversation for five minutes. She was a wonderful woman, Steve.”

Steve glances behind him towards the hallway and the front room, trying to pull up any memories of it, but none came. “Here?” his voice cracks.

Winnifred nods. “Now look at you.” She squeezes her hands around his forearms. “Oh, you grew up so handsome. She’d be so proud of you, you know?”

Steve did know. His mom had never failed to make him feel loved and worthy. 

“I always thought you and Jamie would be fast friends, if we’d ever managed to stay in touch. But, you know how it is. I’m glad you found each other again though.”

He can only nod, it’s all too overwhelming. The fact that he and Bucky had played together as kids? The fact that his mom had known Winnifred, and Bucky…?

“Me too.” He eventually manages to say. 

Winnifred flashes him an understanding smile. “I’m going to make a round of coffees, would you be a dear and go ask what everyone would like?”

It’s a welcome distraction and Steve hastens off to pool the drink requests from the adults sitting in the lounge, trying to gather his thoughts as he goes. He stops in his tracks as soon as he enters the doorway, spotting Annabelle asleep curled up in the armchair which is much too big for her. Upstairs the younger children are being coerced into nap time—if the sounds of chaos are anything to go by—and Steve didn’t miss the conversation outside where Annabelle had successfully argued that she was much too old to need an afternoon nap anymore. It’s adorable to see her so fast asleep, sucking on her thumb with her hair falling across her face.

Steve spies coloring pens and pencils scattered all over the floor from that morning's games and—after relaying the drinks orders—Steve can’t help but sketch her. The act of drawing helps settle Steve’s mind and lets him process Winnifred’s revelation. After she’d died, one of Steve’s biggest regrets was that his mom would never get to know the person he fell in love with or the new family he’d one day—hopefully become a part of it. Knowing that she _had_ , was...well, Steve doesn’t quite know how to describe the feeling that buoys inside him at such a serendipitous twist of fate. He realizes that part of him had felt a little guilty for enjoying himself without her, but knowing that she’d once sat in this room, that she’d shared tea with Winnifred and been a comfort when Bucky’s mom needed it most? Steve’s heart feels fit to burst with joy. 

It takes Bucky a long time to finally emerge from upstairs, looking a little harried but clean and dry in a fresh set of clothes. Winifred had offered to pack up some leftovers for Steve, which he’d insisted he go and help with, and he’s in the middle of trying to talk her down from sending him home with enough food to feed an army when Bucky breezes in. His hair is loose around his shoulders, looking freshly blow-dried and his cheeks are still a little pink, but from a warm shower this time, rather than the cold. Steve is unable to stop himself from pressing a kiss to Bucky’s cheek, even with Winnifred watching on. 

“Do you have to leave already?” he asks with a mournful tone.

“I should probably get going before it gets too dark.” 

“Well you can’t walk home like that now,” Winnifred says slyly and insists Bucky take her car to drive him home. Steve is powerless to overrule both her _and_ Bucky, which is how he finds himself balancing stacks of boxes in one arm as he fumbles with his front door key and hopes the fact that Bucky followed him up the steps to his building means that Bucky wants to prolong their evening a little more as well.

“Do you want to come in?” he asks, managing to sound a lot more confident than he feels. Static tension thrums between them. All-day they’ve been surrounded by Bucky’s family and bound by the unspoken agreement to keep things PG-13. But now, if Bucky follows himself, there won’t be anything holding them back. 

Bucky nods and Steve’s heart leaps into his throat. He successfully navigates fitting the key into the lock and getting the front door open and it’s barely closed behind them before Bucky’s mouth is on his and Steve is trying to remember why they’re both wearing so many clothes. Bucky pins him against the door as they shuck gloves and unwind scarves in their haste to touch each other skin to skin. Steve nearly sends the boxes stacked in his arm to the floor when Bucky snakes a cold hand under the hem of his sweater to splay around his hip bone. 

“We have to put the food in the fridge Bucky,” Steve tries to protest, but there’s no heat to his argument. All of his focus is on kissing Bucky and using his free hand to pull him closer and curl over the swell of his ass. When one of the smaller boxes does fall to the floor, Bucky finally backs away, looking breathless and kiss drunk.

“Fine. Food. Fridge,” he pants. “Then more kissing.”

“ _Lots_ more kissing,” Steve readily agrees. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas! 🎅 ❄️ 🎁 🦌 ⛄ 👪 🎄
> 
> Thank you for all of your comments, we hope you enjoyed it 💙💙💙

_**Bucky** _

As soon as the refrigerator door closes on Steve’s tiny mountain of leftovers, Bucky finds himself pushed against the kitchen counter. Quickly enough he feels Steve’s strong hands slide from his hips to his thighs and he is lifted up on the counter, his legs wrap around Steve’s waist instantly. They start kissing again like they never stopped, lips finding each other like they have been doing this for years, like it’s the most natural thing. It’s lazy and slow because both of them are tired from their day playing outside. But it doesn’t make it less good, less _right_. Bucky’s arms are around Steve’s neck, fingers buried in Steve’s soft hair, and Steve’s hands are on his thighs, fingertips digging into them and Bucky is in heaven. When they stop for air, Bucky reaches for Steve’s glasses and takes them off, resting them carefully on the counter next to them. He kisses the soft skin under Steve’s eyes, feeling the tiny flutter of his long eyelashes against his skin. He kisses his cheekbone next, his forehead, his chin. Bucky feels the way Steve is smiling under his lips. 

Steve pulls him closer into a warm hug, resting his chin on Bucky’s shoulder, one of his hands going to Bucky’s hair and scratching softly. It makes Bucky all warm and sleepy.

“I think I should probably drive home,” Bucky whispers.

Steve doesn’t reply but Bucky can feel him nod. He squeezes Bucky a bit tighter against him like he doesn’t want to let him go. It makes Bucky smile but he really wants to take things slow with Steve. He wants to romance the shit out of him, it’s not just a casual thing for him. It’s serious and he is ready to just give everything he can for this relationship.

He says so to Steve, and it makes him raise his head from Bucky’s shoulder and pull him into a long kiss again. 

“I’d like that,” he finally says, “Only if you let me romance the shit out of you in return.”

It makes Bucky giggle and kiss Steve again, “Deal.”

Steve walks him back to the door, he even helps him wrap his scarf around his neck but Bucky suspects it’s just another trick of Steve to pull him closer to more goodbye kisses.

“Do you have plans for New Years?” Steve asks, with his lips against Bucky’s. 

Bucky shrugs. Usually, New Years is calmer than Christmas. Ruth and Rachel go to their husband’s families and he knows Zoe and Becca are going to a huge party. He had a few invitations here and there but didn’t decide what he was doing yet. He remembers Sam invited him too. 

“It depends. Do you have plans? Sam’s?”

Steve nods, playing with the end of Bucky’s scarf, avoiding his eyes like he is shy. Bucky reaches out and lifts Steve’s face up by tickling a few fingers under his chin. 

“Are you really acting all shy now after we got our tongues down each other’s throat?”

“It wasn’t down our _throats_ ,” Steve scoffs but he is smiling. “Yeah I’m going to Sam’s and I’d like it if you wanted to be my date.”

“I’d _love_ to be your date Steve,” Bucky says, pressing his smile against Steve’s as they meet in another lingering kiss. They stay by the door kissing for a few minutes, any idea of Bucky leaving suddenly forgotten. It’s when he starts sweating and getting red in the face in his winter clothes that Steve takes pity on him and sends him away with one final kiss. 

Bucky can’t stop smiling all the way back to his parent’s house. He is sleeping there too tonight. Boxing day in the Barnes family is usually spent watching movies and eating leftovers all day. It’s a tradition. 

The rest of the week until New Year’s passes in a blur, really. Bucky goes for a bit of shopping to enjoy the after Christmas deals. He finds new decorations and a few items of clothing as well. He gets the perfect shirt for his New Year’s outfit and it sends a wave of happiness inside of him at the thought of seeing Steve again. Of the two of them _dating_. Steve and he never stop texting. They don’t see each other in the flesh, but they facetime almost every night before bed. They always have something to say, and on the very few times they don’t, they just sit there in silence doing their thing. Bucky reading, Steve doodling and it’s nice. It’s perfect.

❄️⛄❄️

On the 31st, Bucky is getting ready in his bathroom when there’s a knock on his door. _Steve is early_ , he thinks as he walks to his door. He realizes too late that he is shirtless and is only wearing a pair of old sweatpants. Steve's eyes instantly dart down to look at his naked chest and then they are up to his face, quick as lightning, his face bright red. 

“You’re early,” Bucky says dumbly, rooted to the spot under Steve’s intense eyes. 

“I was, um, too excited to see you.” Bucky notices how his eyes quickly go down Bucky’s shoulders and stomach again as he speaks. It sends a wave of goosebumps all over his skin. He smiles at Steve’s words though, because he too, was excited to see Steve again.

“You can sit on the couch, I’ll go get dressed before we do anything that will probably make us very late. 

Steve laughs at that but it sounds a bit choked, “You do that, yeah.”

Bucky makes his way to his room and he sees just before closing the door, the way Alpine is slowly approaching Steve, smelling his feet and wondering who the fuck is in her house. “Hey baby girl,” he hears Steve say to her as the door locks into place. 

He grabs a pair of underwear and his favorite black jeans, the skinny ones that pair so well with his combat boots. He opens his closet and then reaches out for the shirt he picked a few days prior, a nice black shirt with white polka dots all over it. With his leather jacket on top? He’s going to look amazing. 

When he walks out of his room, Alpine is now sitting on Steve’s lap and her eyes are closed as he is scratching her behind the ears. 

“See you’ve won her over already?” Bucky says with a smile and he walks closer to steal a quick kiss from Steve’s lips now that he is dressed less scandalously. Steve kisses back with enthusiasm and Alpine jumps from his lap then, like she doesn’t want to be third-wheeling.

“She was easier than you,” Steve says his head resting on the back of the couch and looking at Bucky from upside down.

“Excuse me? I was ready to be wooed on day one, _Steven_.”

“What a pair of idiots we make,” Steve says, his voice laced with amusement. 

Bucky finally takes in Steve’s outfit then, light gray pants and a nice maroon sweater, thick and soft looking. Paired with his beard and glasses, Steve looks like a snack. _Hell_ , he looks like the whole meal itself. 

“But a pair of very good looking idiots,” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows as he plops himself on Steve’s laps and pulls him in for more kisses. Steve wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist to steady him and dives in eagerly, humming his agreement against Bucky’s lips. They share a few lazy kisses until Steve’s phone beeps with a new message. And another one. He moves Bucky onto one of his thighs while he reaches for his phone in his pocket from his other leg and Bucky gets a bit dazed at how strong Steve is and how easily he just manhandled him. His brain comes to a halt and it’s like in the books when the character goes _Oh_.

“It’s Sam,” Steve says, bringing Bucky back to earth. “He says to grab some ginger ale on our way there, he forgot to get some for cocktails.”

Bucky stands up and makes his way to the bathroom to tie his hair up, he only does a half bun to keep most of it away from his face. He turns off the lights around the apartment and makes sure Alpine’s bowl is full before making his way to the front door where he puts his boots and his leather jacket. He pulls on thick leather gloves too and wraps a scarf around his throat. 

He looks at Steve to say he is ready and finds him already looking at him, with soft eyes full of tenderness. He pulls at one of Bucky’s curls, “You look beautiful.”

It makes Bucky blush and bats Steve’s hand away, “Well so do you, and you don’t see me being a sap about it.” Steve only pouts, fluttering his long lashes a few times and Bucky hates how easily it’s working on him. He rolls his eyes to hide it as best as he can as he pushes Steve out of his door. “Oh, Steve! Most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, please move, we'll be late.”

“That you’ve ever seen? Really?” Steve says, hand on his chest with fake amazement. 

“Oh my God! Yes! _Ever_. Now move,” Bucky says, unable to keep his laughter inside for any longer. He can’t believe he’s in love with this big dork. Steve is waiting for him to lock the door and then he reaches out and grabs at Bucky’s hand. They are both wearing gloves and yet, it makes Bucky’s heart dance how easy this is. It’s second nature already to reach out and kiss, and touch. They say you’ll spend the next year doing what you do at midnight and Bucky plans to kiss Steve non-stop when the clock will strike twelve. 

* * *

_**Steve** _

So, Steve’s a little early. He’s excited to see Bucky again, that’s all. Between Christmas and New Year they hadn’t managed to see each other. Bucky was busy with his family and Steve couldn’t in good faith encroach on more of their time together. They facetimed each other almost daily, and whilst it was wonderful to get glimpses into Bucky’s apartment via his phone screen, it didn’t compare to the real thing. Steve has been ready for Sam’s New Year’s party since noon, pretty much. He’s had to keep inventing reasons not to head over hours before, forcing himself to wait until it’s at least in the same hour that they agreed to meet before he allows himself to head over a knock on Bucky’s front door.

When Bucky opens up shirtless and in nothing but sweatpants slung low across his hips, Steve realizes he’s still a little too early to really be polite.

“You’re early,” Bucky states.

“I was, um, too excited to see you,” Steve admits, feeling himself flush beetroot. He can’t help but let his eyes roam across Bucky’s toned arms and the lean lines of his torso. _Fuck_ , who knew Bucky was hiding a body like that beneath his bulky Christmas sweaters and the cardigans he normally wears around the office? 

Thankfully Bucky smiles and welcomes Steve into his apartment. “You can sit on the couch, I’ll go get dressed before we do anything that will probably make us very late,” he instructs.

Which, yeah. Steve pulls his attention back to Bucky’s face and makes a concentrated effort _not_ to lick his lips. “You do that, yeah.”

Bucky hurries off to get ready and Steve finds himself being scrutinized by Alpine. She’s much larger than she looks on screen, and her gaze is far more penetrating. 

“Hey there, baby girl.” Steve stoops to scratch her behind the ears and after a long moment of looking unsure, Alpine appears to approve of him, nuzzling closer to Steve’s hand. She follows when Steve steps over to the couch and he’s barely settled into the seat when Alpine leaps up to lay herself across his lap. Steve’s just glad the grey wool trousers he’s wearing have a slight marl pattern and won’t show up any white hairs that might malt from Alpine. How Bucky always looks so stylish in dark colors whilst living with a white cat, Steve will never know. 

And gosh does he look good, he does a little twirl before they finally leave, showing off his slim-fitting dark jeans and that cling deliciously to his ass—emphasized even more by the cut of his leather jacket that skims his hips in just the right place. 

They pick up Sam’s requested ginger ale at a bodega on the way, and soon they’re catching the elevator up to Sam’s fancy apartment in Manhattan. The party’s already in full swing when they arrive, with moderately loud music spilling from speakers and strategic lights adding to the glow from all of Sam’s Christmas fairy lights. His apartment always ends up just as decorated as his office, even if he was hardly home to enjoy any of it over the holidays this year.

“Oh, ho! What’s this?” Sam greets them and grins their clasped hands. “It’s about fucking time!”

Steve feels himself blush and Bucky laughs, squeezing Steve’s hand reassuringly.

“Yeah right, like you suspected anything.” Bucky shakes his head and drags Steve into the apartment so the door can be closed behind them. 

“I did too!” Sam protests. “Nat, tell ‘em!”

“If I recall correctly—which I always do,” Natasha smiles smugly. “You said the two of them would never realize they were crushing on each other, and nothing would ever happen.”

“That’s true,” Carol pipes up. “I was there. I heard that.”

“Whatever.” Sam waves them off unconcerned. “I’m happy for the two of you though, congrats.” And then he pulls them both into a combined hug before grabbing the ginger ale from them and herding them towards the kitchen to get something to drink. 

“Looks like you had a good Christmas in the end, then?” Sam asks later, a little slurred, as they sit around and wait for midnight like the bunch of mid-thirty-year-olds that they are. 

Steve glances over at Bucky who’s deep in conversation with Natasha about something. He must sense that Steve is staring at him because he looks up to meet Steve’s eyes and smiles. 

“Yeah,” Steve says easily with a happy sigh. “Yeah, I did. It was great.”

“And here’s to many more?”

“Many, many more.” Steve grins. He knows it’s soon, and it should be too early to tell, but imagining his future with Bucky just feels right. They might only have been dating for a few days, and they may only have graduated from colleagues to friends in the past few weeks, but it feels like they’ve been gravitating towards one another their whole lives. 

Steve had relayed Winnifred’s revelation to Bucky during one of their nightly phone calls and Bucky had gone quiet for a moment before his face had broken out into the biggest, happiest smile Steve thought he had ever seen. 

“Sounds like fate, to me,” he’d beamed and Steve’s heart had soared. 

Eventually, midnight rolls around and they gather by Sam’s living room windows ready to watch the fireworks illuminate the sky across the city. Bucky entwines their hands together and leans his head on Steve’s shoulder, with his other hand wrapped snugly around Steve’s bicep as they listen to the countdown from the coverage of the ball drop on the TV behind them. 

_10…9….8...7…_

Steve keeps his eyes fixed on Bucky, and reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind his ear in preparation.

_6...5...4…_

Steve has never kissed someone at New Year that he truly loved. He’s never truly loved someone as much as he loves Bucky. Never had someone he knew he wanted to spend his life with. 

If it was fate that had brought them together, then Steve isn’t sure what he’s done to deserve someone as wonderful as Bucky Barnes, but he knows he’s going to make damn sure he’s worthy of him; for the rest of his life, if the fates allow. 

_3...2...1…!_

“Happy New Year, Steve.” Bucky arches up to kiss him tenderly. It’s a kiss filled with the promise of all of their future kisses to come, and, like the kisses that concluded all of the fairy tales Steve had loved so much as a child, it’s a kiss filled with the promise of a life lived happily ever after. 

=

_Through the years we all will be together_

_If the fates allow_

_Hang a shining star upon the highest bough_

_And have yourself a merry little Christmas now_

=

_**~ The End ~** _

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you can! This fic will be updated periodically between now and christmas 😊✨


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